


Inosculation

by GKMasterson



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-31
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-04-12 06:36:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 29,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4469021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GKMasterson/pseuds/GKMasterson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It takes more than just a crew to keep a star ship running. As they make their way back home, the ties that bind the Voyager crew together make them more than just shipmates - they're a family. AU with some OCs to explore the depth of the characters and relationships among the crew of the USS Voyager during their sojourn in the Delta Quadrant</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

T’Loran, or ‘Lauren’ as the rest of the crew called her, stood over her station in Engineering and studied the read-out calmly. Behind her, she could hear the Chief Engineer, Lt. B’Elanna Torres, berating herself and growing more and more frustrated at the cold, hard facts that were staring them all in the face. Anger, though, would change nothing. Unless they managed to find a source of deuterium soon, they were going to have to look for even more systems to shut down to save resources for propulsion and scanners.

“What in the name of Kahless am I supposed to do to keep us moving?” she growled. The rest of the crewmen and ensigns gave Torres a wide berth. T’Loran decided to tackle the targ, as it were, and give the woman the answers she seemed to be demanding.

“I would suggest diverting all power from crew and officers quarters to the cargo bays and common areas, shutting down replicators and the holodecks, and setting the lights in the ship’s corridors to their lowest setting until we manage to find the components we need. We can recommend that comms, xenosciences, and other non-essential personnel be reassigned to ship’s functions or assigned to scanning for what we need.”

“Shut down life support in the living areas, Ensign? Are you insane?” Torres spat.

“It makes sense,” Vorik said from across the room. “It would greatly conserve our power reserves.”

“And everyone would die in their sleep.”

“Not if they slept in one of the cargo bays or common areas as Ensign T’Loran is suggesting.”

“Oh,” the half-Klingon said, blushing slightly. “I still don’t think that will go over well.”

“All due respect, lieutenant, but unless our scans detect a large source of deuterium nearby within the next 72 hours, it will not matter how ‘well’ it will ‘go over,’” T’Loran said calmly. “There will be little alternative but to implement those policies. However, if they were implemented immediately, we would conserve an estimated four weeks’ worth of fuel.”

“I can’t say I’m looking forward to having all of you as my room-mates,” Torres muttered. “I’ll take your suggestions to the rest of the senior officers, Lauren. The rest of you, get back to work!”

T’Loran winced but bit her tongue. It would do her little good to correct the lieutenant. Her name was unusual enough on her home planet. It was a “gift” from her brother based on the story their grandfather had related of how she came to be part of their family. Off-worlders frequently mistook it to be the common Terran name “Lauren” so she was accustomed to answering to that name. It amused Yuris greatly to receive notices addressed to her by that name. Even worse were the few times she had received notices under her childhood nickname — Teresh-ka. Mitrani, her sister-in-law, had helped her correct those problems when they threatened to impede her entry into Starfleet. “It is 17:00 hours. Alpha shift is relieved,” came the announcement throughout Engineering, pulling her out of her thoughts. She quickly finished up inputting the last few equations to try to wring a bit more efficiency out of the engines, gathered her PADDs, and then left Engineering. She nodded politely to crewman Lon Suder as she passed him in the corridor and made her way to the Mess Hall where Mr. Neelix had prepared food for the ship’s personnel. She stopped by the quarters she shared with another Ensign and a crewman to pick up a workpad and pen before making her way to the large eating area. She set her things on one of the unoccupied tables in the far corner of the room before going over to the galley where Mr. Neelix was dishing out dinner and discourse with his usual exuberance.

“Good evening, Ensign,” the Talaxian said with a bright smile. “I hope you’re hungry because tonight we’ve got pot roast with all the trimmings!” He piled a plate with the fare he was serving the rest of the crew and she accepted it calmly. “Why the frown, Ensign? Even Mr. Paris said it was good,” he asked.

“It is not your culinary skills that are in question,” she replied. “I do not eat meat.”

“You don’t?” he replied, sounding confused.

“That is correct.”

“Why not?”

“Because it requires the death of another when there are other logical alternatives,” she said.

“You sound like Mr. Vulcan over there,” the Talaxian muttered, cutting his eyes towards Lieutenant Tuvok. “How about a salad then?”

“A salad would be acceptable.”

“I’ll bring it out to you when I get a moment, Ensign.”

T’Loran nodded and returned to her table with only a glass of water. She tapped one of the PADDs and scrolled through the information it displayed until she got to the section she sought. She picked up her pen and began jotting down notes and equations in her workpad. She could feel the curious eyes from the others in the mess hall on her — writing on paper was archaic — but she ignored them and continued with her work. There was something very soothing about physically writing things down. The numbers and equations practically solved themselves as she resolved them, taking the theories and speculations, distilling them through the logical framework of observed fact and law, making annotations, scrolling for more information, and repeating the process. She paused to mentally work through a particularly tricky bit of subspace mechanics and shield dynamics, considering the different frequencies and going through each one logically. Her dark, onyx-irised eyes were unfocused and the ship blurred in her vision, falling away to be replaced by the formulae and mathematical models as well as the mental images of Voyager itself and the shape of the subspace corridor that she was imagining. The sounds of conversation from her shipmates vanished as well as T’Loran continued to focus her mental energy. She could feel her wrist and arm moving, writing out the information by rote.

When Mr. Neelix came with her salad and an apology for the delay, she set aside her work and ate quickly so that she could return to it. “Are you writing on paper?” he asked when he returned to check on her and refill her glass with water. He sounded vaguely scandalized. “Surely our energy supplies are not that low yet, Ensign.”

“I find it helps me focus my thoughts.”

“What are you writing? Is it a story? A diary like you humans like to keep?”

“It is a private project, Mr. Neelix.”

“Oh, I won’t tell anyone,” he said. “I’ll bet you’re quite creative, Miss Lauren. You can let me read it when you’re done if you’d like.”

“It is not a story, Mr. Neelix.”

“Then what is it?”

“I am attempting to determine a method for traveling at a speed greater than warp ten or a method of constructing an artificial wormhole.”

“I see… Well then, I’ll leave you to it, Miss Lauren.”

“To travel at warp ten would mean that one would exist in all places at once. We would be traveling at infinite velocity. An intriguing idea,” Ensign Vorik said. “May I?” he asked politely. She nodded and he sat across from her, scanning over her notes. “How did you come to be interested in such a theoretical endeavor?”

“Lieutenant Paris mentioned it to me when he asked if it were possible to do with current technology. It is a project I pursue in my spare time.”

“Have you reached any conclusions, Ensign?”

“I believe it may be possible.”

“Intriguing.”

“I will be writing a preliminary report for Lieutenants Paris and Torres to review within the next few weeks. They, along with Ensign Kim, are both most well-informed and competent concerning such matters. Perhaps I could send you a copy as well, Ensign?”

“I would find that acceptable. You write in Vulcan?”

“I do.”

“Interesting. For what reason?”

“It is my native language. I was raised on Vulcan.” Vorik quirked an eyebrow at her. “ _The circumstances were unusual,_ ” she explained, switching to Vulcan.

“ _They must have been. Unless… were your parents ambassadors?_ ” he asked, switching to Vulcan as well.

“ _They were not. My parents lived in Raal. My brother and his wife live there still._ ”

“ _It is unusual for humans to live on Vulcan._ ”

“ _As I said, the circumstances around my arrival were unusual._ ”

“I see,” he said, switching back to Standard. “Forgive my intrusion into your affairs.”

“No offense is taken, Ensign. It is refreshing to have someone call me by my name,” she said softly with the dry humor common to Vulcans. “There are times when I question if it would be considered illogical for me to program the consoles in Engineering to deliver a mild shock whenever someone calls me ‘Lauren.’”

“It would be an effective means of conditioning them against doing that,” he agreed in the same dry tone. “I look forward to reading your findings soon,” he added, glancing again at her writing pad. “Good night, Ensign.”

“Good night,” she replied, returning to her work.

~*~*~*~

T’Loran bit back a sigh of frustration when her comm badge chirped at just after 0200 hours. She knew very few people would bother her without good reason at this hour. She tapped it and responded quickly. Lieutenant Torres was not one who liked being kept waiting even when it was a logical expectation.

“Yes, Lieutenant?” she asked.

“I need you to report to Engineering. Suder contacted me. Darwin went for his meal break and has not returned. I’ve been unable to raise him.”

“Aye, sir,” she said. She rose from her bed, dressed quickly, and hurried to Engineering where the sole Betazoid on the ship, Mr. Lon Suder, sat calmly at his station. “Good morning, Mr. Suder,” she said politely.

“Good morning, Ensign.”

“Is there anything of note to report?” she asked as she took a seat at one of the monitoring stations.

“She’s running smoothly. No power spikes, no incidents other than Darwin deciding to dodge the rest of his shift.”

“Very well. I will take over for you so that you may take a break, Mr. Suder.”

“Thank you, Miss Lauren.”

T’Loran ground her teeth as a momentary flash of annoyance surged through her. “It’s T’Loran,” she thought to herself. “It is hardly the most difficult name to pronounce.” She glanced up when she heard him pause. He was looking at her strangely. He said nothing, merely continued looking at her for a few seconds more before leaving. The logs of fuel consumption, energy efficiency, warp field variables, and more came across her station. She noticed a break in one of the EPS conduits and began running a diagnostic, sending it to the background while she focused on her pet project — increasing sensor range and resolution. If they could find more sources of fuel and have more precision on the location, they might be able to forgo the replicator rations entirely. Idly, she thought about something Ensign Kim had mentioned and added it to her growing wish list of engineering projects. If Voyager were in Federation space, many of these projects would be nothing more than a simple refit at the nearest starbase or shipyard.

“Engineering to the Bridge,” she said, tapping her console’s comm system.

“This is the Bridge,” Ensign Kim’s voice answered.

“Recommend a minor adjustment to our heading. There is a distortion that is causing a bit of drag on our starboard section. Fuel consumption is increasing and efficiency is dropping.”

“Thank you for the report, Engineering. We will proceed as advised. Bridge out.”

T’Loran watched as the heading changes were made and sent a notification to the Ops station that the drag was gone so that they would know it was no longer a concern. Night shift often consisted of the most boring tasks and minor adjustments like that. Had it happened during one of the day shifts, one of the commanding officers might have wanted to investigate it. She heard Suder return a short time later and pondered going to the Mess Hall herself to get some tea. She had a double-shift again tomorrow and with covering the entirety of Darwin’s second shift, she was going to be pulling a triple shift on less than six hours’ sleep and only one hour of meditation. She brightened when the long-range scanners indicated that there was an asteroid field rich in dilithum and deuterium — enough that they would be able to refuel and lay in enough to keep going for several more years. It would take them a few weeks off their projected course so she sent the report to Lieutenant Torres and the rest of the senior officers before returning to her regular duties.

“Were you running a diagnostic on the EPS conduits?” he asked.

“Yes. There seems to be a problem in conduit one four one,” she replied as the report came to the foreground of her console.

“One four one?” he asked. T’Loran blinked. His tone sounded calm but… “Ensign?”

“I’ll look into it, Mr. Suder. It may be nothing.”

“I’ll go,” he offered. She stared at him. She could sense a kind of malice emanating from him. It was almost as if she could hear his thoughts. “You…” he growled as her eyes widened in shock. “You’re one of us!”

“What do you mean?” T’Loran asked. She had no time to react as Suder grabbed her throat, his fingers closing around it. With his other hand, he tore her personal comm badge off and placed it in his pocket. She could feel her windpipe being crushed. Shoving down panic, she reacted with logic and dug her fingers into his wrist, pinching the tendons and nerves there and forcing his hand to open. She shoved him away and tried to put more distance between them while she considered the next move. However, the overwhelming sense of menace, panic, fear, and anger she felt coming from him — the sheer violence — was confusing. How was she able to sense these things? Humans did not possess any telepathic or empathic abilities. That was one of the things that had held her back among her fellow students on Vulcan. And yet…

“You look so innocent but you’re just the same as the rest of them,” he snarled as he advanced on her. T’Loran continued to back away, looking for an exit or a comm terminal. Failing that, some kind of weapon would suffice. However, Suder had her cornered. He pulled a two kilo coil spanner from his work belt and ran to her. She tried to block his blows with her hands but the first swing shattered one of the bones in her right arm. He wrenched her left arm behind her, turning her so that her back was to him, and then everything went black.


	2. Chapter Two

Ensign Vorik woke with a strange sense of dread. Calmly, he analyzed the emotion, attempting to determine its origin and cause. Finding none, he dismissed it, rose and continued his morning routine, dressing and meditating before taking breakfast in the mess hall and then reporting for his duty shift. He found himself anticipating seeing the human ensign T’Loran and wondered at that. There was little to distinguish her from the countless other human females on the Voyager crew. She had dark blonde hair that she wore in a simple style. Her eyes were somewhat peculiar in that they were completely black instead of blue or green. She was intelligent, calm, logical, and spoke Vulcan fluently. Their conversation yesterday had helped to alleviate some of the longing for home he felt. He wondered if she played kal-toh and, if so, if she would be amendable to joining him in a game one evening. If her background were true and she had been raised on Vulcan, then he wished to learn more of her since wide experience brought an increase of wisdom — provided such experience was not sought purely for the stimulation of sensation, of course. Pushing aside his anticipation, Vorik continued to Engineering and took his place at the EPS monitor console.

“Odd,” he said softly as he checked the login information. It seemed that Ensign T’Loran had logged on to this very console at 0224. However, if his memory served him (and it rarely failed him), she was supposed to be on impulse control this shift. Indeed, she would not have been on the night shift at all since Alpha Shift was pulling doubles. He moved to the impulse control console and logged on from there. The strange feeling of dread returned.

“Ensign Vorik, what the hell are you doing at impulse control? Ensign Lauren is supposed to be there if she’d ever bother to grace us with her presence!” Lieutenant Torres shouted from across the room. “First she fails to turn up to cover for Darwin last night, leaving Suder in a lurch and now she’s not reporting in for her assigned duty shift. For someone who wants to emulate you Vulcans so much, you’d think she’d do a better job.”

“I believe she was here, Lieutenant,” Vorik said calmly. “The EPS console shows her as having logged on at 0224. She never logged off.”

“What? When I checked it with Suder earlier, it was blank.”

“Perhaps he showed you a screenshot of an unaccessed terminal,” Vorik offered. “With a few tweaks, it is easy enough to make it look active.” Vorik walked over to the console with the half-Klingon. Quickly, they pulled up the console’s event logs.

“Sure enough,” B’Elanna spat. “That’s exactly what the bastard did. But why?”

“I do not know,” Vorik said softly. “But I will begin investigating immediately.”

“You do that. I’ll have security go check Ensign Lauren’s quarters and pull the security monitors from last night. We also have something going on in the EPS conduits. It looks like there’s a physical interrupt in the circuits in conduit one four one. That’s what’s been keeping us from going to warp.”

“There is another interruption in the EPS on deck 11. I am attempting to localize it now,” Vorik said. “It seems to be in one of the Jefferies tubes near the Aft Lounge.”

“Oh my…,” he heard Torres shout from the upper part of Engineering where the EPS conduit access panels opened. “Lieutenant Tuvok, report to Engineering immediately and send a security team to check in on Ensign T’Loran in her quarters.”

“Acknowledged,” Vorik heard the security chief respond.

“Ensign T’Loran, please respond. This is Engineering to T’Loran, respond immediately if you are able.” Her comm badge chirped and Vorik heard her tap it.

“Yes?”

“This is security. There is no one in Ensign T’Loran’s quarters. We are sending people to check on her room-mates now.”

“Acknowledged. Is her comm badge there?”

“Affirmative. We heard you over it.”

“Great,” Torres muttered. “Is there any way we can do a bio-scan for her?” she asked aloud in Engineering. “Anything?”

“If we had some of her DNA, possibly,” one of the transporter specialists offered. “But I don’t think we have it on file off-hand.”

“Security,” Torres said, tapping her badge, “search her room and bring us a sample of her DNA if you can. A finger nail, a hair follicle, anything! Otherwise, we’re going to have to do a deck-by-deck search of the ship for her.”

“Understood,” came their reply.

Just then, Tuvok walked in to Engineering. Vorik followed him up to where Lieutenant Torres stood next to the open access panel. “Is there a problem, Lieutenant?” Tuvok asked. Torres gestured to the EPS conduit. The dark-skinned Vulcan bent down and, looking over him, Vorik could see the cause for her concern. A human body, badly burned, lay in the conduit. If Ensign T’Loran had suffered a similar fate, that could be why she was not responding to calls. However, Lieutenant Torres’s posture indicated that she suspected foul play and not an accident. The fact that someone had made it appear that Ensign T’Loran had not reported in last night to cover for Crewman Darwin and that they had apparently taken the trouble to return her comm badge to her quarters gave additional weight to that suspicion.

“With permission, Lieutenant, I would like to investigate the issue in the Aft Lounge,” Vorik said politely.

“Go ahead, Ensign,” Torres said absentmindedly. Tuvok was already calling for more security personnel to report to Engineering to help him secure the crime scene. Vorik took the tool-belt and the first-aid kit from the Engineering supply closet and hurried over to the Aft Lounge. He stopped before he reached it, opening the Jefferies tube access panel and crawling inside. Dragging the first-aid kit with him, he crawled along the tunnel. When he reached the section behind the Aft Lounge, he noticed that several of the EPS circuits were broken and stained with blood. The plasma flow had been disturbed. Blonde hairs were caught in some of the circuitry and the area had the strong smell of burned flesh. However, there was no body and not enough ash to indicate a complete disintegration. If Ensign T’Loran had been here, she was still here. He continued crawling through the tube, noting that there were splatters of blood and bloody handprints at regular intervals on the left-hand side. Vorik reached one of the junction closures and tapped the codes to open it. He frowned at what he saw when the panels parted.

T’Loran sat with her back against the far wall of the junction. Her head lolled and he could see that blood matted it and had run down the front of her uniform shirt, staining the gold. The sleeve on the left was burned away to nearly the shoulder and her left arm was badly burned, the flesh blackened and charred. She cradled her right arm against her body and he could tell that her right hand was swollen and had turned blue, indicating a bad fracture. Her uniform pants were torn and tattered in places. “Ensign?” he asked. Moving into the junction, he squatted down and felt for a pulse on her neck. He gave a sigh of relief when he found one though it was weak. Vorik gently lifted her chin to check her for further injuries. She had several bruises on her face and her throat had dark marks that looked like someone had tried to strangle her. Standing up so he could look over her, he winced at the massive wound he found at the base of her skull. There was no way he could move her to sickbay himself. He knelt back down and gathered her into his arms to make the emergency transport easier. Her silence was mildly worrying so he hurriedly tapped his comm badge.

“This is Ensign Vorik. Lock on to my signal and prepare for an emergency beam out of two directly to sick bay,” he said calmly when the transporter operator responded.

“Two?”

“That is correct.”

“Pattern-lock established. Transporting now.”

The Jefferies tube vanished and was replaced with sick bay. The Doctor and Lieutenant Tuvok were already there, standing over the bed in the surgical bay. Vorik and T’Loran materialized in the middle of the room. Their sudden appearance startled the EMH. Tuvok moved towards them with his normal calm demeanor. “What happened, Ensign?”

“I found her in the junction behind the Aft Lounge. She was unconscious and in this condition when I found her, Lieutenant. I called for an immediate emergency beam out as per standard procedure,” Vorik replied as the EMH swept in, calling for Kes to assist him. The EMH and Vorik moved carefully to lift the unconscious woman to one of the beds where the doctor began scanning her with a tricorder.

“And why were you looking for her, Ensign?” Tuvok asked.

“I was not looking for her specifically, Lieutenant. I was inspecting an intermittent disruption in the EPS near the Aft Lounge. Given that we had a nearly identical issue in conduit one four one that was caused by Crewman Darwin’s body interrupting the circuit, I thought something similar might be the case here. I took along the first-aid kit as a precaution and found Ensign T’Loran as I reported.”

“How long do you believe she had been in there?”

“Several hours, perhaps.”

“How do you believe she came to be injured?”

“I do not know, Lieutenant.”

“Well, she’s lucky that Mr. Vorik found her when he did,” the EMH said with the condescending tone he generally used whenever he was displeased about something. “Another few hours and she would have been dead.”

“What are the extent of her injuries, Doctor?” Tuvok asked.

“Four broken ribs, a punctured lung that is completely deflated, a compound fracture of the ulna and the radius in the right arm, a long and deep laceration from near the tip of her right ear to the base of her skull, severe burns on her left arm, bruising on her neck…wait, that’s not supposed to be there,” the doctor muttered. “Humans don’t have those.”

“Could any of these injuries be the result of an accident?” Tuvok asked.

“Maybe if she fell off a cliff. Are there any cliffs on Voyager?” the EMH snarled. “Kes, get me her medical records now! Ensign, you should go clean up and then report back to Engineering. Tell Lieutenant Torres that Ensign T’Loran will survive and will report for duty in a few days.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Vorik nodded. “Please, let me know when Ensign T’Loran wakes up.”

~*~*~*~

As instructed, Vorik returned to his quarters, changed out of his soiled uniform, and then returned to Engineering. He relayed the doctor’s report to Lieutenant Torres who stared at him, dumbfounded, as he delivered it with the same calmness that he would deliver a report on a holosimulation. “It has to be Suder,” Torres growled. “He was the only one in Engineering when Darwin came on and he’s the one who called me to tell me that Darwin had not come back from his dinner break and he couldn’t raise him. Dammit!” she swore. “I sent her right into his clutches. You’re certain she’ll be all right, Ensign?”

“The doctor indicated that her injuries were severe but not life-threatening and not beyond his capability to treat,” Vorik replied.

“I should have known that Suder was going to do something like this,” Torres snarled. She began pacing. Vorik stood at parade rest, his posture calm. He knew that humans and Klingons had some kind of inexplicable need to express their emotions verbally and to move. Suggestions that she calm herself and work through the problem logically would only increase her agitation. “That man gave me the creeps whenever we had to work together in the Maquis.”

“Crewman Suder has never done anything to give cause for concern,” Vorik pointed out. “Logically, you could not have known he would suddenly decide to attack two of his fellow crew members last night.”

“It’s like I told Tuvok just a bit ago,” she sighed. “Suder did his job with the Maquis a little too well.” Vorik raised an eyebrow at that. “Killing Cardassians,” she explained. “Normally, he was the typical Betazoid. Quiet, unassuming, kept to himself. Hell, half the time, he was practically invisible. But then we’d go into battle and Chakotay would have to pull him back, stop him from going too far. There were a few times when we were certain that Suder was going to kill one of us for stopping him,” she shuddered. “Those cold, black eyes of his… if they wind up being the last thing T’Loran sees in this life, I’m going to need someone to hold me back,” she growled.

“It is interesting that you have finally started pronouncing her name correctly, Lieutenant,” Vorik said mildly. “I am certain Ensign T’Loran will appreciate it when she returns to duty.”

“She’s really going to be all right?”

“The doctor seems to be of that opinion.”

“How the hell does a human wind up with a Vulcan name?”

“She said she was raised on Vulcan in the province of Raal. She speaks Vulcan fluently with the proper accent and she follows many of the teachings of our people. That leads me to believe that her claim is accurate though, as she admitted, the circumstances were somewhat unusual.”

“I always thought she was just one of those humans who wished she was a Vulcan,” Torres sighed. “She irritated me with her logic and the way she never smiled or got angry. She had that whole superior-Vulcan-attitude thing down to a fine art. Sometimes speaking with her was like speaking with a computer or you or Tuvok. No offense.”

“Forgive me, Lieutenant, but I fail to see how her ability to control her emotions or how her use of logic would lead you to believe that she felt herself superior to you. Ensign T’Loran called you well-informed and competent — hardly terms she would use for someone she considered inferior.”

“And all this time I’ve been calling her Lauren and trying to take her down a rung,” Lieutenant Torres winced. “She must be ready to hit me herself.”  
“I believe the idea of programming the consoles to deliver a mild shock whenever someone called her that has crossed her mind,” Vorik said with a small grin, “but she takes no real offense as she knows none is intended.”

“You two must be good friends, then, if you know so much about her.”

“We are colleagues and we have spoken a few times. I learned much of this from her last evening. We are both…looking forward to seeing Vulcan again.”

“Let me know how she’s doing, would you, Ensign?” Torres asked. She chewed her lower lip thoughtfully as she stared out over the warp core.

“Of course, Lieutenant.”


	3. Chapter Three

The girl felt herself floating in some kind of void. She could hear voices but could not make out what they were saying. Her mind drifted and she opened her eyes, looking down to see leaves. Her heart was pounding and her body shaking with fright. Something terrible had happened. She looked at her hands — they were grimy and covered with blood. Her stomach rumbled and she wanted to cry but she knew that she could not make a sound. Not until she knew that the people talking below her were not the same ones who had been there before. Vaguely, she could remember being told to go hide and be quiet. She’d crawled into the tiny gap between the house and the ground and hidden there, covering her ears against the loud whizzing noises and shouting. It had been very hot, she remembered, but she stayed hidden until everything was silent. Then, she’d crawled out. The people in the house had been laying on the floor and had not moved when she touched them. She tried to speak to them but the words to call them no longer existed in her mind. She shook them to see if that would help and patted her hands in the wetness coming from their bodies in case that might do something. When it did nothing, she left them alone and began looking through other houses to see if there were other people who could help her rouse the ones who were laying in the floor in her house. But all of the people she found were laying down like those two had been and all of them had red stuff leaking out of them in places. The girl padded back to the familiar house and began looking for the place where she had seen food come from. She remembered one of the people would talk to the wall in a certain spot and food would appear. What words they said, though, she couldn’t remember.

It was dark now. All of the lights were gone. The girl tried to remember where the wall-place-that-gave-food was. When she could not find it, she wanted to cry. But she had been told to be quiet and to hide. So, she returned to her hiding spot and slept until the light came back and woke her up. She crawled back out in search of the wall-place again, her stomach growling and her head pounding. Inside the house, she noticed that the people who were laying down had not moved at all. And they looked different. The red-stuff was different, too. It was browner now and the people were purple where they touched the floor and white where they did not. When she tried to move them, they wouldn’t move at all and they were much colder now. She wondered why that was. She also wondered what it was that made them not move and why she was able to move.

A sudden noise brought the girl out of her thoughts. She went out of the house and looked around for the reason for the sound. It made her think of the same sound that made the others tell her to hide and be quiet. Which is why she was in the tree now. More people were walking around. They weren’t the same kind of people that she lived with in the town or in the house and they weren’t the same kind of people she’d seen making the whizzing noises with their arm-sticks and bright lights yesterday. Something about the way they were dressed was familiar to her. They didn’t hold the arm-sticks and the things they did hold in their hands made happy sounds. She liked these people but she was still scared because they were different. Was she supposed to keep hiding and being quiet? One of the people walked into her house. She worried that he might lay down and not move like the people who lived there. But the girl didn’t know what to do to stop that from happening.

Something flashed in her mind. A sound. A man used to make a sound and it made her happy because some animal used to come running when the sound was made. She couldn’t remember words but she could remember how to make that sound. Pursing her lips, she blew through them. A sharp, piercing whistle startled her. She shook her head and made the sound again. The man came out of the rear of the house and looked around. She made the sound again and he walked over to the tree. He raised the singing-box in his hand and pointed it towards her. It made sounds that made her happy and she made her sound again. The man moved around to the thing she had used to climb up the tree and climbed up himself. She turned and regarded him calmly. He said some words to her but she did not know them. They sounded familiar but made her stomach hurt and her head ache. Finally, he switched and made different words and she smiled. She didn’t know these words either but they didn’t make her stomach hurt like the other ones did.

“Tonk’peh, ko-kan. Olau tu uf?” he asked. She whistled again when he fell silent and he quirked one of his long, black eyebrows at her. She was fascinated by them and felt her own — they were curved but the man’s were straight. Next she touched her ears and frowned when she felt that they were rounded. His were pointed. She examined her hair next — it was white and his was black. The only thing they had in common was their skin being pale. He had switched back to speaking the other words and she didn’t like that. She shook her head and whistled. He sighed and tapped something on his chest. “Ki’tal-tor nash-veh pi’ko-kan. Ki’gal-tor ish-veh dahkuh tevun sos’eh.” Some other words came from the thing on his chest and she blinked and looked curious. The girl began scooting closer to the man and he nodded, gesturing for her to follow him. She listened as he spoke and said words that sounded like “Komihn” and “spes-fam.” Finally, he turned to her and tapped his chest. “Sevik.” He pointed at her. She whistled. He shook his head and tapped his chest again. “Sevik.” She whistled when he pointed at her. Finally, he gave her a tiny grin. “Sevik,” he said, pointing at himself. “Teresh-ka,” he said, pointing at her. The girl blinked and nodded. He pointed at himself.

“Sevik,” she said, her voice slightly hoarse from disuse. “Teresh-ka,” she said, pointing to herself. She walked over to him and tugged on his pants and then motioned for him to squat down. He seemed to understand and did so. She tapped his ear and said “Sevik?” and then tapped her own.

“Whl’q’n,” he explained, tapping his ear. “Komihn,” he said, tapping her own. “Olau tu uf?” he asked. Her stomach rumbled and he quirked an eyebrow. She stared at him, fascinated by that. She felt at her own eyebrow as she tried to mimic the expression. He rose back up and held out his hand for her to grasp. She took it by instinct and followed him knowing, somehow, that Sevik would keep her safe.

~*~*~*~

“What do you mean ‘you see a bird?’” the EMH asked, sounding exasperated.

“Just that, Doctor. I see a bird fluttering around her. It looks lost and confused. It keeps whistling as if it is waiting for someone to answer it,” Kes replied. “I don’t know how else to explain it.”

“Well, her psilosynine levels are elevated and there is a lot of activity going on in her paracortex. She _could_ be projecting something telepathically. Why she’d be projecting a bird, I have no idea.”

“It has some meaning to her,” Kes said confidently. “In some way, she identifies with it.”

“Perhaps we should ask Commander Chakotay to come in here. It could be her spirit animal,” the EMH snorted. Kes resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “I can’t make sense of her medical records. Why on Earth is she listed as human but her planet of origin is given as Vulcan? Her date of birth is listed as the fourth of K’ri’lior 2352 or Stardate 31357.87 but there’s a note from the Vulcan government that indicates that it doesn’t actually reflect her date of birth. For all I know, it could be the date she spoke her first word or she went through her kahs-wan or got married! For a species so dedicated to logic, they certainly have made a mess of her records,” he snarled.

“Doctor, maybe you could ask the Captain or Lieutenant Tuvok to help you? They may know more about her background,” Kes suggested. “Or perhaps one of her friends could tell you more?”

“Kes, from what little I do know about Ensign T’Loran, the woman doesn’t have much of a social life. She goes to work, she eats alone, she returns to her quarters and mediates. Occasionally, she spends time studying or working on a research project involving theoretical astrophysics and propulsion engineering but, aside from that, she’s practically a hermit.”

“Neelix said he saw Ensign Vorik speaking with her yesterday evening and Vorik is the same one who brought her in earlier. I’d say that qualifies them as friends.”

“You don’t know much about Vulcans,” the EMH sighed as he tapped his comm badge. “Sick Bay to Ensign Vorik. Please report when you get the chance.” The doctor then tapped his badge again. “Sick Bay to the Captain.”

“Yes, Doctor?” Captain Janeway’s voice came over the comm link.

“If you and Mr. Tuvok have a few free moments, I could use your help in Sick Bay unraveling a bit of a mystery surrounding Ensign T’Loran.”

“Has she regained consciousness?”

“Not at this time, I’m afraid.”

“We’ll be there shortly, Doctor. Janeway out.”

“Is she dreaming? The frequency is very different than I would expect,” Kes noticed. “Her eyes are moving and she’s got increased theta wave activity.”

“More proof that she’s Betazoid,” the EMH muttered. “They reach REM sleep at a different frequency than other humanoids. And just wait until she hits mid-life,” he grimaced. “Hopefully all that Vulcan training will do some good because Betazoid females go through a phase that makes _pon farr_ look like a walk in the park.”

Kes sighed. The doctor was in one of his moods. He would never admit it, of course. He hated it when records weren’t kept in proper order or when information was hidden from him. He also did have something of a prejudice against Vulcans for their tendency to ignore his advice and go their own way. Their closed-lipped nature concerning their own medical science also annoyed him. A short time later, the doors to Sick Bay opened and Vorik walked in. “Ah, Ensign,” the EMH said warmly but dryly, “I didn’t expect you so soon.”

“Lieutenant Torres ordered me to report immediately when I began experiencing…visions,” Vorik said haltingly. He blinked when his gaze fell on Ensign T’Loran. “A teresh-ka,” he whispered. “The same one I was seeing in Engineering.”

“Are you referring to the little bird?” Kes asked.

“Yes. It is a bird native to Vulcan.”

“I’ve been seeing it as well, Mr. Vorik,” the Ocampan said reassuringly. “I’m not certain what it means. Still, I like it,” she smiled. “It’s cute and it sings so beautifully.”

“At least you know you’re not hallucinating,” the doctor muttered. He took a quick scan of Vorik’s brain. “Everything’s normal. You may return to duty if you wish.”

“Lieutenant Torres would like an update on Ensign T’Loran’s status,” the Vulcan said calmly.

“She’s still unconscious. I’ve repaired her injuries. She’ll be fine just as soon as she decides to wake up. It will be another few days before she can report for duty, though, given the damage to her lung.”

Vorik said nothing. He moved to stand next to her bed, gazing down at her. He had his hands clasped in front of him with his index fingers extended. The small bird continued to flutter around her, chirping and singing. It would land and peer at him questioningly every so often, trilling a question that he could not puzzle out. He closed his eyes and blocked out all distractions, focusing his thoughts on the Ensign in front of him. Words began to become clear and though he could not see the memory she was experiencing — he was unskilled with mind-melds and would not attempt such a thing on someone who was unconscious and could not give consent — he could hear the thoughts she was projecting. “Hello, little girl,” he heard a Vulcan man saying. The voice was a warm, comforting presence. “Are you well?” A pause. The man spoke to someone else in the distance. “I’ve found a very young girl. She’s two years old, perhaps. Human. Mute, possibly. She hasn’t spoken — just whistled. She looks as if she may be ill whenever I speak Federation Standard so I’m speaking Vulcan. No…she seems calm. Fascinated by me. Curious. At once.” There was another pause. The man spoke again. “Sevik.” A sense of confusion. “Sevik,” he repeated. A piercing whistle. “Sevik,” the man said, followed by “Teresh-ka.” A beat and then a young girl’s voice spoke. “Sevik,” she repeated. “Teresh-ka. Sevik?” a sense of curiosity. Vorik felt as if someone were tapping gently on the tip of his left ear. “Vulcan,” came the man’s reply followed by “Human.”

Vorik opened his eyes. He felt as if he had violated T’Loran’s privacy even if she was, somehow, inadvertently broadcasting her thoughts for any telepath to pick up. The connection with the bird was clear now. It was a nickname she’d been given by a Vulcan when she was very young. He cleared his throat and T’Loran groaned softly, her forehead furrowing. “Are you well?” he found himself asking in Vulcan.

“ _Fa-sami?_ ” she blinked. Vorik was at a momentary loss for how to respond. He was clearly _not_ her grandfather.

“Doctor, she’s awake,” Kes called out as she moved to stand on the other side of T’Loran’s bed. “How are you feeling?”

T’Loran blinked again, staring at Vorik in confusion. “No, you’re not…Ensign, forgive me,” she whispered. “I was dreaming about my grandfather, about when he first found me,” she muttered.

“Ensign T’Loran, glad you decided to rejoin us,” the EMH said. “You’ve given everyone quite a bit of excitement. Ensign Vorik, could you give us a bit of room? Now there, Ensign T’Loran, what is the last thing you remember?”

“Suder…Crewman Suder was dragging me through the Aft Lounge. He opened the EPS panel and shoved me through. I laid flat…there was a lot of smoke. He closed the panel. My left arm was badly burned. I think I passed out. I don’t remember,” she sighed. “I managed to squeeze under the plasma conduit into the Jefferies tube. I crawled to the junction. I was going to climb up to Sick Bay but it hurt too much. I blacked out again. Then I woke up here.”

The door to Sick Bay opened and closed. The EMH turned and saw that the Captain and Lieutenant Tuvok had arrived. T’Loran tried to sit up but Kes and the doctor both moved to stop her. “Captain, Lieutenant,” she said.

“As you were, Ensign,” Captain Janeway said briskly. “I understand you’ve been through quite the ordeal. Can you remember how you wound up in the Jefferies tube?”

“She was just telling us that Mr. Suder placed her in there,” the EMH replied for her. “Why did you not attempt to get away from him, Ensign?”

“I…couldn’t move,” she said, sounding confused. “I was aware of what was going on around me but I was unable to move.”

“Did Crewman Suder attack you?” Tuvok asked.

“We were in Engineering. He had just returned from his meal break. It was just after 0300. I had the strangest sense that he was angry with me. Enraged. I’ve never felt anything like that before. He began choking me but I used a nerve pinch to force him to open his hand. He had me cornered, though, and he took out a coil spanner. I couldn’t block the blow — it landed on my right arm. He grabbed me and struck me on the back of my head. The Aft Lounge is the next thing I remember,” she sighed.

Vorik moved to try to leave but Captain Janeway fixed her gaze on him. “Mr. Vorik, I understand we have you to thank for Ms. T’Loran’s continued good health. Can you substantiate her claims?”

“Her story matches what I saw in the Jefferies tube behind the Aft Lounge.”

“If you are done interrogating my patient, I have some questions of my own for her,” the doctor muttered sourly. “Ensign, can you tell me what species you are?”

“Human,” she said, sounding confused.

“What leads you to believe that you are human?”

“I have always been told that I was human, doctor. Ever since my grandfather found me when I was a toddler. Or perhaps I should specify my _adoptive_ grandfather, Sevik. According to him, I was the only survivor of an attack on a settlement on Dessica II. There was a settlement of Federation citizens who sent out a distress call and the Vulcan patrol ship he was on responded. The Vulcan government and the Federation tried to locate my next-of-kin but could not and Sevik’s daughter V’Las and her husband Delvok legally adopted me when I was five. I know it’s unusual for a human to be adopted by Vulcans but my situation was rather unique.”

“Do you remember your birth name?”

“No. I have never been able to remember that. Sevik nicknamed me Teresh-ka because he found me hiding in a tree and because I would only whistle at first — I would not speak. He said it took a few attempts and he had to abandon using Federation Standard and resort to Vulcan before I would verbalize at all. According to him, I resisted learning Federation Standard until after I was adopted.”

“Do you remember your true date of birth, Ensign?” the doctor asked, growing more frustrated.

“I’m sorry, Doctor, but I do not. We estimated that I was two years of age when I was found on the fourth of K’ri’lior 2352. I would have been born some time in 2350. Once my mother and father had adopted me and the Vulcan government recognized me as part of their family, they issued a birth certificate with the fourth of K’ri’lior 2350 listed as my date of birth.”

“Have you ever had any reason to suspect that you are not human at all, Ensign?”

“No. Why would I?” she asked, sounding more perplexed than alarmed. “It would be illogical to suspect I am anything other than human. There were only humans among the dead.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re laying down then,” he snorted. “Because you’re not human, Ensign. You’re Betazoid.”

Vorik blinked and then gazed at T’Loran’s face. She looked somewhat confused but was not protesting or arguing the way many would. “I’ve never shown any signs of being telepathic,” she replied. “I was tested many times as a child.”

“Betazoids rarely show any trace of telepathic abilities until adolescence,” the EMH explained. “You are just something of a late bloomer, Ensign, but I assure you, you _are_ telepathic. You may require some training in order to make use of your telepathic abilities but you do possess them.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” T’Loran said calmly as she tried to process the sudden revelation. “As a medical professional, do you have any information on how I should begin this training?”

“I’m afraid that, when it comes to telepathy, Betazoids are as close-lipped as Vulcans,” the EMH sighed. “The only person who could help you there would be Mr. Suder — obviously _not_ an option.”

“So you had no idea you were Betazoid, Ensign?” Tuvok asked.

“No, Lieutenant.”

“And your adopted family never inquired as to your origins?” he pressed.

“The government on Dessica II was less than helpful,” T’Loran replied. She lifted a hand and rubbed her forehead as if her head were beginning to ache. “And I truly have no recollection of my life on Dessica II at all. I can only vaguely remember a few things — most about the events that led up to my grandfather finding me. My apologies if it that is of no use to you.”

“No apologies needed, Ensign,” the Capitan said quickly. “Dessica II has always been a lawless world and you were just barely out of infancy. That you can recall anything at all is extraordinary.”

The EMH cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention back to him. “While all of this is no doubt fascinating, Ensign T’Loran needs her rest. I’m almost sorry I called everyone down here. Ensign, I’ll do some research to see if I can help keep you from accidentally broadcasting your thoughts until we figure out some training regimen so that you can gain mastery of your abilities.”

“Have I been broadcasting my thoughts?” she asked, her cheeks flushing slightly.

“Ensign Vorik and Kes have both been seeing visions of some kind of little bird,” the EMH said coolly.

“I think it’s cute,” Kes said warmly.

“May I return to my quarters?” T’Loran asked in a soft undertone. “I would like to meditate.”

“There’s no real reason to keep you in Sick Bay,” the EMH said, disapproval evident in his voice, “but do take it easy for the next few days. I want you to report back here once per day so I can check your lungs and make certain no infection is setting in. You are _not_ cleared to return to duty.”

~*~*~*~

“Tuvok, you know I rarely question your decisions as Chief of Security,” Captain Janeway said once she and her Vulcan second officer were back in her ready room. “However, I require an explanation as to why you were interrogating the victim of a brutal attack about her origins when we have her Starfleet records right in front of us. Ensign T’Loran’s story was known to me when I accepted her as part of this crew. I knew she was a human raised by a Vulcan family. I know how unusual it is for Vulcans to adopt children at all, let alone alien children. I also know that the reason she was adopted was because her grandfather, Sevik, found her intriguing and because his daughter was unable to have children after her son was born — and before you ask, no, I don’t know why. Vulcans, being a matriarchal society, naturally tend to want daughters as well as sons. T’Loran is exactly who and what she says she is. Sevik believed her human and since she’s never been seriously ill or injured before, no one’s bothered to do more than the most rudimentary scans.”

“Why was I not informed of her history when I returned to Voyager?”

“Lieutenant, Ensign T’Loran is one woman out of a crew of over one hundred individuals. I hardly thought it worth the trouble to take you aside with all the trouble we’ve been through and tell you about her background. Aside from her background being a bit out-of-the-ordinary, there’s nothing to distinguish her from any other bright, young Vulcan woman.”

“What is known about the attack on Dessica II that caused her to be orphaned?” Tuvok asked.

“You don’t have enough of a mystery on your plate right now?” the captain asked wryly. “All evidence pointed to it being a Romulan attack though the Vulcan government discounts that. Sevik said that he thought it might have been a renegade band, perhaps hired by a different faction on Dessica II itself, who were out to make it clear that they did not want the Federation’s eyes on them. However, T’Loran is right about one thing — there were only humans found among the dead. How a Betazoid infant wound up among them may be something we never figure out.”

~*~*~*~

T’Loran was beginning to wonder if there was a place on the ship where she could hide for a few hours without raising alarms or it being obvious that she was doing exactly that — hiding. In the few days since she’d been attacked, her telepathic abilities had nearly overwhelmed her at times. She could hear the errant thoughts of every person she passed. She hoped that her own thoughts weren’t as loud as others were. She had no way of determining how effective her shields were given that she’d spent most of her time trying to avoid people. She disliked being privy to so many of their thoughts and the onslaught of emotions she could feel emanating from many of them took all of her control to keep at bay. She’d considered requesting a meeting with Lieutenant Tuvok in order to seek his counsel and advice but after hearing that he was still recovering from his experience with a mind-meld gone wrong with Lon Suder, she became determined to work it out on her own. What she truly needed was a quiet space apart from others with at least one telepath she could trust to help her. Given that there were only four other telepaths on board Voyager — one of whom was in the Brig — she was beginning to wonder if she would ever find a way to deal with this sudden new sense that had been thrust upon her.

“Ensign,” she heard a warm, familiar voice call out to her, pulling her from her thoughts. “Is there a particular reason you are wandering through the labs in such a furtive manner?”

“Ensign,” she nodded politely to Vorik. “I am looking for a quiet place where I can explore my telepathic abilities.”

“Alone?” Vorik asked, sounding confused.

“That was my intent,” she sighed.

“Ensign, I do not mean to pry into your affairs but it is incredibly difficult to practice telepathy on one’s own,” he said dryly. “Perhaps I can be of assistance?”

“I would not want to impose on you, Ensign,” T’Lorna replied carefully. “And I understand that Lieutenant Tuvok has experienced some difficulties due to potential incompatibilities between Betazoid and Vulcan telepathic styles.”

“It would be no imposition,” Vorik countered. “We can take better precautions and go more slowly than Lieutenant Tuvok did. I fear he may have acted somewhat rashly and illogically in his desire to uncover a motive in Mr. Suder’s criminal behavior when mere psychopathy offered a sufficient if unsatisfactory explanation for his behavior.”

“I had similar thoughts as well, Ensign,” T’Loran agreed. “I suppose we can attempt to work together on this but I would appreciate your discretion in the matter and I will apologize in advance for any illogical or overly emotional displays or sentiments that may occur during these sessions,” she flushed. “I…I have no idea what to expect and I find myself uneasy and a bit frightened at what may happen.”

“I understand your concerns, Ensign,” her fellow crewman said calmly. “When Vulcan children first begin training in their telepathic abilities, it is not uncommon for lapses in control to occur. They are not punished so long as the student learns from them. You have nothing to fear,” he added, venturing so far as to move close enough to her that he could place a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Anything I learn by accident I will reveal to you immediately and will hold in the strictest of confidence.”

“Thank you,” she whispered. Vorik gave her a small smile and stepped back. “I believe that the last lab on this corridor will be the best place for our practice sessions. Hardly anyone comes down here.”

“Then let us go there and begin,” he said, stepping to the side and gesturing for her to lead the way.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not posting this last week. My life has gotten just a wee bit insane (details on my blog if you care to hear them). That should be the only update I ever "miss," though.

Tuvok sipped his tea and studied the PADD in his hand with half a mind as he sat in the crowded mess hall during the morning rush. In the weeks since his mind-meld with Suder had forced him to come face-to-face with the darkness that lurked within him, he had gained a deeper appreciation for the traditions of his people as well as a strange kind of empathy for the rest of the Voyager crew. Though they did not experience the deeply passionate and turbulent levels of emotions that were part of the Vulcan psyche — emotions that had nearly destroyed their race before their embrace of logic saved them — they managed to keep themselves on an even keel under very trying circumstances. Tuvok wondered if he would be able to adjust so well were he stripped of his emotional control and unable to regain it.

His musings led him naturally to consider Lon Suder and Ensign T’Loran. Since the second mind-meld, Suder had become much more controlled, rational, and empathic. He was able to experience guilt and remorse for his actions and often expressed a desire to make some kind of restitution. He accepted his permanent confinement to secured quarters without complaint but desired to be able to do something useful so as to not be a drain on the ship’s resources during the long voyage back to the Alpha Quadrant. He had also expressed a wish to help Ensign T’Loran with her own telepathic abilities. Sipping his tea, Tuvok pondered the best way to broach the fraught topic with the woman. Logically, having a Betazoid tutor would be the best solution. However, he did see that she might find it difficult to lower her guard enough for such a situation to be viable. Perhaps, in time, she would be able to accept Mr. Suder’s offer.  
Glancing over, Tuvok saw T’Loran and Vorik enter the mess hall together. He wondered at that. The two of them had been spending an increasing amount of time in each other’s company since her attack. They did work together and, having gone over her history and records, Tuvok could understand that the two of them might naturally see each other as fellow Vulcans on a ship dominated by humans. Thus far, they had done nothing inappropriate — friendships between crewmembers of equal rank were not forbidden — but he was unsettled by the idea that there might be more going on between them. The two of them gathered their trays, received their meals from Neelix who, knowing they were both vegetarians, had prepared protein-rich salads for them and pressed a nutrient-dense soup on T’Loran.

“ _It would do you good to eat it,_ ” he heard Vorik say telepathically. “ _Our sessions leave you drained and you will require a higher caloric intake as well as an increase in folic acid and vitamin B._ ”

“ _It smells heavily of capsaicin,_ ” T’Loran sent back. Tuvok’s eyes widened in surprise.

“ _I have noticed that Mr. Neelix attempts to add his own artistic touch to any dish he prepares,_ ” Vorik replied mentally. “ _I supplied the parameters of this soup but he has taken the liberty making some minor adjustments. I do not believe they will impact its purpose, though._ ”

“ _It is not your digestive tract that will be suffering the effects of Mr. Neelix’s ‘minor adjustments,’_ ” T’Loran quipped.

The two ensigns sat down at an empty table and continued their telepathic conversation as they dined. Occasionally, T’Loran struggled to hold up her side, broadcasting images or sensations instead of words or imbuing her words with more than she obviously wished to communicate — a common occurrence when Vulcans were first learning to communicate telepathically. They were both also broadcasting their conversation so that any telepath could ‘hear’ it — another event frequent to Vulcan children early in their training. Tuvok, feeling more and more as if he were eavesdropping, rose from his seat and walked over to them. They both moved to salute him but he gestured for them to remain sitting. “As you were, Ensigns,” he said aloud. “ _You may wish to shield your conversations better so that not everyone can hear them,_ ” he added mentally to both of them. T’Loran gaped and then flushed bright red, looking down at the table. Vorik, on the other hand, appeared a trifle annoyed. He managed to control his expression better than T’Loran but the tips of his ears had a distinct green tint to them, indicating some degree of anger.

“A word in private if I may, Lieutenant?” Vorik requested politely but his voice held a hint of cold steel to it. Tuvok could sense that he had sent a telepathic message to T’Loran who seemed to be gathering her control and now appeared much calmer. Tuvok nodded, acceding the younger man’s request and the two of them walked over to an unoccupied corner of the mess hall. “With all due respect, sir, Ensign T’Loran received no training in telepathy during her childhood on Vulcan. As a Betazoid, she would not have displayed any telepathic ability until many years after the rest of her class mates had already begun training.”

“I am aware of those things, Ensign, as I am aware of her unusual background,” Tuvok said coolly. “However, one of the earliest lessons we are given is in keeping our thoughts and conversations private.”

“I am aware of that, sir,” Vorik replied, just as coolly. “And I have begun teaching her those things. However, it often takes a Vulcan child several months to master those skills. Ensign T’Loran has been practicing only eight hours a week on average when we can have our shifts allow for us to meet and go over those lessons. It was my suggestion that she and I begin speaking telepathically more frequently so that she would find it easier to do so and might find it easier to learn other skills — including how to shield her thoughts — more quickly in the future.”

“And why have you taken it upon yourself to train her, Ensign? Surely there are others more qualified to train her?”

“There are only two other telepaths on Voyager, sir — yourself and Mr. Suder. Mr. Suder is imprisoned and under house arrest, confined to quarters indefinitely. He also attacked Ensign T’Loran. You are our superior officer and we have no standing to approach you with such a personal request. T’Loran was planning to attempt to teach herself when I came across her and offered to help her.”

“None of that answers my question, Ensign. Why you?”

“Because there is no one else. And because she would do the same for me if the situation were reversed. It is only logical that I help her since I can and no one else is willing or able to do so. And again, with all due respect, sir, what we do when we are off-duty is no one’s business but our own.”

“Very well, Ensign,” Tuvok said. “I would appreciate it if you kept me and the doctor informed of your progress and if both of you agree to submit to routine examinations.”

“That is reasonable,” Vorik agreed.

“And Ensign,” Tuvok added as Vorik turned to go back to his meal. Vorik looked over his shoulder at his superior officer. “No mind-melds without my or the Captain’s consent.”

~*~*~*~

“You should not take Lieutenant Tuvok’s criticism too harshly,” Vorik said quietly. He could sense that T’Loran was very out-of-sorts over what the chief of security had said to them. Though she had excellent control of her emotions and her expressions under normal circumstances, the mental fatigue and the physical strain that came with using her telepathy so frequently for so long had broken down some of her barriers. “You are making progress. In time, you will be able to target only those you wish to send your thoughts to.”

“You are certain that not everyone can hear us?” she asked again.

“Only other telepaths and only if they are in the same room,” he answered for the third time. “You do not have the skill or strength to project your thoughts to non-telepaths nor can you send them beyond a certain range. Even Lieutenant Tuvok could not broadcast his thoughts very far.”

“Can you hear everyone else’s thoughts, Vorik?” she asked curiously.

“No,” he answered, unsurprised at this question. He had been waiting for her to ask it. “It is one of the differences between Betazoid and Vulcan telepathy. I can only pick up the thoughts of other telepaths. Betazoids, on the other hand, can detect the thoughts and emotional states of non-telepaths as well as telepaths. You may also find yourself detecting the thoughts and emotions of non-sentient beings such as animals.” T’Loran stared at him. “I did some research,” he explained. “It was quite fascinating. Apparently Betazed has always had a very peaceful society due to their telepathy. They also have a very strict code of ethics regarding the treatment of all life-forms as they can sense the emotions of many of them. There is much to admire about that aspect of your background.”

“I have been focusing on the more technical aspects of Betazed telepathy,” she sighed. “I will have to expand my research to include Betazed history. At least now I can block it out,” she added.

“It must have been overwhelming at first.”

“It was very disorienting,” she admitted. “I am relieved to have gained some control over it.”

“And soon you will have more control,” he said encouragingly. “T’Loran, have you considered speaking with Mr. Suder?” She shuddered, a logical if unhelpful reaction. “I understand that it may be difficult to consider but he is the only Betazoid on board. He may be able to offer you information and guidance that I cannot provide.”

“I will consider it. I know that the lieutenant has been counseling him. Perhaps if he indicates that Mr. Suder has truly undergone a major behavioral change for the better, I will risk it. For now, I don’t think I could control my reactions were I to be in a small enclosed space with him.” She yawned sleepily. “I had best return to my own quarters. My room-mates will be wondering where I am. Thank you for allowing me to come to yours. I’m not certain I could have handled their questions right away. I hope I haven’t imposed too much on you.”

“It was no imposition. Perhaps we could conduct your sessions here in the future? It would be more private than the labs,” he suggested.

“I would find that satisfactory,” T’Loran agreed. She yawned again. Vorik smiled slightly. “I almost regret volunteering to work on the transwarp project with Mr. Kim and Mr. Paris.”

“How is your work on that progressing?” Vorik asked curiously. “No, don’t tell me,” he prodded gently. “ _Show me,_ ” he said telepathically, sending her a series of images that played out like a small holo-movie in her mind. T’Loran sighed and closed her eyes. She was, as yet, too inexperienced to be able to send such complex information without blocking out as much sensory input as she could. Vorik waited patiently and was soon rewarded with a series of complex images — schematics, diagrams, computer models, T’Loran’s imaginings of what transwarp might look like from within a ship, the mathematical models she’d used to construct her models, and more. He also received what she had learned from the others on the project regarding ship design, the kind of fuel they would need, engineering problems they were encountering in their simulations. A wealth of information flooded his mind and he sent back his own questions, delving into her mind to pull up her own mental images and use them to illustrate his questions or to point out something he thought she had missed. Their conversation continued for another hour before her sendings began to grow hazy and foggy. They started to flicker, causing to Vorik to grow mildly concerned. When he stopped receiving them entirely, he switched to language-based telepathy. When that elicited no reply, he opened his eyes and shook his head in abashed embarrassment. He did not remember closing them. T’Loran had nodded off. The lengthy sessions had taken their toll on her and her body had succumbed to exhaustion. Rising from his place on the floor, he lifted her gently and laid her on his couch where she could rest more comfortably. After a moment’s thought, he removed her shoes and then fetched an extra blanket from his closet. Satisfied that she would be comfortable for the night, he retired to his own room to meditate and sleep as well.


	5. Chapter Five

“Why does that keep happening?” Tom Paris growled angrily as the simulation indicated that the shuttlecraft had torn itself apart again. “The nacelles keep getting ripped off.”

“We’ve reinforced everything and there are no structural issues,” Vorik replied as he checked over the logs. “I’m checking the data now.”

“Is there a bug in the simulation itself?” Paris asked.

“No,” Harry Kim replied as he scrubbed a hand through the fringe that hung over his forehead. “The simulation is accurate. T’Loran, the models are right, aren’t they?”

“They are exactly what I can predict. I did refine them based on the telemetry we received from the probe.”

“Perhaps there is some flaw in the pylons? I’m reading a fracture in the port nacelle pylon.”

“Why don’t we try simulating it with a reinforced pylon?” Harry suggested.

“We could also dump more power into the structural integrity fields,” Tom suggested. “What exactly is causing the fracture to happen?”

“Subspace torque,” Vorik and T’Loran replied at the same time.

“Will you two quit doing that?” B’Elanna growled. “It’s creepy.”

“I’m resetting the parameters now,” Harry muttered as Vorik and T’Loran downloaded the data from the failed simulation into an engineering station. Harry waited until they were done and he’d received a signal from Vorik to begin the next simulation. The engineers nodded and the five of them restarted the simulation. “There it is, a fracture is forming on the port nacelle pylon.”

“Redirecting power to structural integrity,” Paris said.

“The fracture is expanding,” Vorik muttered.

“The field is destablizing,” T’Loran reported. “The engines can’t maintain the field.”

“We’re overloading the powergrid,” Torres added.

“The port nacelle has torn free,” Vorik said calmly.

“I’m dead,” Paris sighed. “Back to the drawing board again.”

~*~*~*~

A dispirited group of five sat in the mess hall the next evening, poring over reports. They had made multiple alterations to the simulated shuttlecraft and its power systems, engine core, and propulsion systems but the changes were not sufficient to save the craft. No matter what they did to reinforce the nacelle pylons, they kept tearing free from the craft. They’d spent hours going over everything but could not find the cause of the fracture. When Harry had fallen asleep slumped over the navigation console and both Vorik and T’Loran had begun rubbing their foreheads as the characters and figures on their displays blurred, B’Elanna and Tom had finally agreed to call a break so they could get some sleep. They’d agreed to meet for breakfast before their duty shifts started, had gone over the notes, gotten nowhere, and then reported for duty. Now that they were all off-shift, they were back at it in the mess hall trying to figure out what was going wrong.

“It’s the pylon again. Every time we get close to crossing the threshold, the subspace torque rips a nacelle off the shuttle,” B’Elanna sighed in frustration.

“What if we used a duranium alloy to reinforce it?” Harry suggested.

“No,” Vorik sighed.

“It’s too brittle,” T’Loran explained.

“She’s right,” B’Elanna agreed.

“More coffee?” Neelix asked as he walked up to their table. Five pairs of eyes glanced up at him with expressions ranging from welcoming to irate. “Ah, you look like a happy bunch.”

“We’ve hit a wall,” Harry told the Talaxian.

“Oh, well, maybe I can help?” Neelix offered.

Tom Paris snorted and rolled his eyes. T’Loran and Vorik both stared at him — Neelix might not be able to help but a fresh set of eyes on the problem could offer a different perspective. It was illogical to denigrate an offer of assistance. “Great,” he said sarcastically. “Do you know anything about quantum warp theory or multi-spectral subspace engine design?”

“No,” Neelix admitted, “but I’m a quick study. What are we working on?” He sat down and began scanning through the PADDs.

“We’re trying to break the maximum warp barrier,” Vorik replied before Tom or Harry could protest.

“Nothing in the universe can go at warp ten,” Harry explained. “It’s a theoretical impossibility.” T’Loran snorted. “In principle, if you were ever to reach warp ten, you’d be traveling at infinite velocity.”

“Infinite velocity,” Neelix repeated. “Got it. So that means very fast.”

“It means that you would occupy every point in the universe simultaneously,” T’Loran replied. “In theory, you could go any place in the blink of an eye. Time and distance become meaningless.”

“If Voyager achieved warp ten, we could be home in as long as it takes to push a button,” Harry said with a hopeful grin.

“Wow!” Neelix exclaimed. “And you’re working on this?”

“Last month, when T’Loran found that asteroid field we used to refuel, we discovered a new form of dilithium that remains stable at a much higher warp frequency,” Tom nodded. “The problem is that every time we simulate crossing he transwarp threshold, the nacelles get torn off the ship.”

Neelix frowned in concentration. “I remember there was a time when I lost a nacelle going through a dark matter nebula,” he mused.

“This is a very different problem,” Tom said dismissively.

“I realize that,” Neelix shot back, his frustration at being brushed off evident. “I’m just using it as an example. As the ship went through the nebula, it sent out a dark matter bow wave. Eventually, so much pressure built up, it tore the nacelle from its housing. Now, maybe the same thing is happening to you.”

“No, the simulations don’t indicate any kind of subspace stress on the nacelles,” Harry muttered thoughtfully as he considered what Neelix had said.

“What about the shuttle itself?” Tom said suddenly. “What if we’re looking in the wrong place?” Everyone else began to consider the issue. Vorik and T’Loran stared at each other as they exchanged thoughts rapidly.

“The nacelles aren’t being torn from the ship,” Vorik said aloud.

“The ship is being torn from the nacelles,” T’Loran finished for him.

“The hull of the shuttle is made of tritanium alloy,” Harry said brightly, catching on. “At the speeds we’re talking about, that alloy could depolarize.”

“Which would create a velocity differential,” T’Loran agreed.

“The fuselage would be traveling at a faster rate of speed than the nacelles,” Vorik added.

“So all we have to do is set up a depolarization matrix around the fuselage!” B’Elanna said triumphantly. “Neelix, you are a genius!” The five of them stood quickly and hurried back to the holosuites so they could reprogram the simulation with the new information. Meanwhile, Neelix began gathering their PADDs and shook his head.

“I have no idea what they just said,” he chuckled to himself, pleased to have been of some help to them at the very least.

~*~*~*~

The entire ship was abuzz with excitement when news began to spread that the group had successfully broken the transwarp barrier in their simulations. T’Loran had difficulty blocking out the effervescent sensations that left her feeling giddy — almost drunk — as she went about her normal duties. Even Vorik seemed to be showing more emotions than usual as they prepared for the test flight. The four engineers — Harry, T’Loran, Vorik, and B’Elanna — had spent days making the necessary modifications to one of the shuttlecraft and taking it out on test runs at impulse and low warp speeds to calibrate the new engines, sensors, and electrical systems. Tom joined in as frequently as his own duties would allow. The closer they drew to launch, the more latitude they were given to take time off to work on this assignment. Tom Paris was looking forward to joining the ranks of the most famous pilots in history — Orville Wright, Neil Armstrong, and Zefram Cochrane. The rest of them were just happy to be remembered as part of the anonymous many whose theories, research, and ingenuity made those flights possible.

The day of flight arrived and all five of them were on pins and needles as they ran through the pre-flight checklist and then launched. From their consoles in Engineering, B’Elanna, Vorik, and T’Loran monitored the shuttlecraft _Cochrane_ as Tom powered it up. Voyager itself was matching velocity with the craft on a parallel course as both ships accelerated up towards warp nine at a steady rate.

“I’ve reached warp eight,” Tom Paris reported over the com. His transmission was received in engineering and on the bridge.

“How’s his dilithium matrix holding up?” B’Elanna asked Vorik.

“Warp nine,” Paris reported.

“There is a slight variance in the field but nothing to be concerned about,” Vorik replied. B’Elanna glanced over at T’Loran who nodded in agreement.

“Okay, Torres to shuttlecraft Cochrane. You are cleared for transwarp velocity,” the chief of engineering said calmly but with a hint of excitement.

“Acknowledged,” Paris replied over the com. “Engaging transwarp drive in five, four, three, two, one… Now reading warp nine point seven… nine point eight… nine point nine…”

“He is exceeding our maximum velocity,” came Tuvok’s calm voice over the intraship communication line. “I am switching to long range sensors.”

“Warp nine point nine-five,” Paris continued to count off. “Engine output at maximum. Velocity: warp ten.”

“Yes!” they heard Ensign Kim shout triumphantly from his station on the bridge. B’Elanna, Vorik, and T’Loran all shared small smiles. The test run had been successful. Their prototype engine clearly worked. With the data they received from this, they should be able to learn more and perhaps even begin making modifications to Voyager’s engines with an eye towards returning to the Alpha Quadrant much sooner than the seventy-plus years it was currently expected to take them.

“Transwarp engines are stable. So are the nacelle pylons,” Paris was saying. “I’m going to…” his communication suddenly cut out. In Engineering, the three stared at each other in horror for a brief second before springing into action. They could hear the senior staff giving orders from the bridge. At the Bridge Ops station, Ensign Kim had set the sensors to sweep at max range. T’Loran pulled up the controller programs and refined the feeds, tightening the beams and increasing the gain. She sensed Vorik doing much the same for the communications channels on all standard Federation frequencies while B’Elanna was preparing emergency procedures on the main power station, the deflector array, and the warp drive in case the captain called for them to increase power or speed temporarily beyond standard safe measures.

_“I’ll handle the shields if you’ll take care of structural integrity in case we have to push maximum warp for very long,”_ T’Loran sent to Vorik.

He nodded and sent back, _“Agreed but look into helm control and navigation as well since we may need to route everything but comms through here if we’re going to dump that much raw power into the drive.”_

_“Good call,”_ she replied mentally without looking at him. She could feel a subtle warmth from him — but she ignored it to focus on her work. The warmth remained but soon threads of embarrassment and discomfort began to worm their way through it. She glanced over at him — to the non-Vulcan eye, Vorik looked as calm and composed as always. However, T’Loran could read nervousness in the way his movements were slightly less fluid than normal and his shoulders were tight with strain that he was trying to mask. She kept her thoughts to herself but sent a very faint tendril of tranquility out towards him, just barely touching his mind with it. When she felt his discomfort wane, she relaxed the tension she had not realized she’d begun to feel. _“Clearly telepathy is more complicated than I realized,”_ she thought.

_“Indeed,”_ he sent back. T’Loran struggled not to blush. _“Don’t worry,”_ he sent quickly, _“if you communicate with one person frequently, sometimes things have a way of slipping through inadvertently. It is not considered a breach of protocol so long as neither party makes mention of it.”_

_“Makes mention of what?”_ she sent coolly, glancing over at him with a raised eyebrow. He met her gaze calmly but with tight-lipped good humor.

“Could the shuttle have been destroyed?” Captain Janeway was asking over the comm.

“I don’t believe so,” Tuvok replied from his station on the Bridge. “Sensors indicate that he did cross the warp threshold.”

“If that’s true, then he could be anywhere in the universe,” Ensign Kim replied.

“We’ll just have to keep searching our small corner,” the captain said with her usual aplomb. “Run a multi-spectral sweep. I want to see if…” Before she could finish her statement, sensors in Engineering and on the Bridge flared warnings as a quantum surge was detected just off the port bow. T’Loran and Vorik both began running an analysis on its signature to see if it matched the _Cochrane’s_ as Tuvok reported it to the captain. However, before either could do much more than determine that something had emerged from subspace, they heard Captain Janeway hailing Tom Paris.

“I’m going to Sickbay,” B’Elanna said after she heard the captain give the order for Paris to be beamed directly there. “You two,” she ordered, pointing at T’Loran and Vorik, “beam to the Cochrane and bring it into the shuttlebay. Vorik, you and Carey will be in charge of checking the ship’s systems while T’Loran and Wildman pull the data from the flight logs. I’m sure that Paris and Kim will be joining us shortly,” she added. “Dismissed.”

“I hope Neelix has plenty of coffee ready,” Vorik said aloud as Lieutenant Carey joined him while T’Loran tapped her comm badge to request Ensign Wildman meet them in the Shuttlebay. “We’re going to need it.”

~*~*~*~

Hours later Ensign Vorik and Lieutenant Carey finished going over all of the systems and the exterior of the shuttlecraft. There were no anomalies, no deteriorations, no signs of any stress — not so much as a scratch on the hull. Ensigns T’Loran and Wildman were still busy downloading the logs to the Engineering core where Ensign Kim had joined them. There was a surprising wealth of data — far more than any of them had expected. The news that Lieutenant Paris had awakened and was apparently none the worse for the flight had been a great relief to all of them when Torres stopped by to check on their progress. T’Loran, however, found herself dwelling on an off-hand comment she’d heard the captain make.

“Mister Paris says that he was ‘everywhere.’ What do you make of that, Lieutenant Torres? Is there anything in the navigational systems to confirm that?”

“We won’t be able to know for certain for a few more hours, Captain,” B’Elanna had replied. T’Loran had found herself intrigued enough to move closer so she could listen in.

“Being everywhere…” Captain Janeway mused. “With the Kazon, back home, with the Klingons, other galaxies. He could barely explain it. It was as if language could not adequately convey what he experienced.”

“I could ask Ensign T’Loran to work with Crewman Harren. Between the two of them, they might be able to formulate a theory as to what exactly Tom might have experienced.”

“Do that,” the Captain agreed.

The brief conversation kept running through her mind. How could one person experience complete omnipresence and retain their sanity? The human brain was simply not wired to absorb such a vast amount of information and sensory input in such a short amount of time. Would the experience cause some unforeseen alteration to Tom Paris’s neurology? Would he go insane? Or would he simply be unable to retain the experience in his memory, having it evaporate much like a dream would upon waking? Perhaps this was how the Q Continuum began. Idle speculation, she knew, but she could not help but wonder over it. She had always been curious. Even as a small child, she had wanted to know everything. Her grandfather told her stories of how, after finding her, she had followed him like a second shadow until she discovered the ship they’d arrived in. After that, the Vulcan crew had been forced to keep a constant look-out for the toddler whose insatiable curiosity led her to try to take everything apart in order to determine what it was made of, how it worked, and what it did. Sevik wound up replicating a small teaching computer for her which she had kept with her at all times on the three week journey back to Vulcan. By the time they’d arrived, she had not only gained passable fluency in their language but had also begun to pick up the basics of algebra, rudimentary physics, geometry, and logic. She’d also mastered using the food replicators — much to the amusement of the crew who discovered that the child could polish off several bowls of plomeek soup in a single sitting.

Vorik’s stifled laughter tore her from her thoughts and she felt her cheeks heating. She hoped that she had not accidentally told him all of that and that his amusement stemmed from something else. Again, she felt a gentle touch, almost a fond caress that she decided to ignore for the time being. As she and Ensign Wildman waited for the data transfer to finish, T’Loran began accessing everything she could on encounters with the Q Continuum, the Enterprise’s experience with the Traveler and with Wesley Crusher’s warp experiments, philosophical texts on higher dimensions and even Bajoran religious documents concerning their Prophets who were non-corporeal, non-linear aliens native to the wormhole that bridged the Alpha and Gamma Quadrants. Ensign Wildman contacted Mr. Harren to request that he join them once his duty shift ended and then began reading right along with T’Loran, the two women stopping only to whisper back and forth before running off in other, often contradictory, directions. After a few hours, T’Loran had a pounding headache and Ensign Wildman was relieved when the Doctor contacted her reminding her that she had a scheduled pre-natal scan to attend.

“The transfer will be finished soon, T’Loran,” Harry said confidently. He gripped her shoulder in a reassuring manner. “I’m sure that all of that data will be just what you need to figure out where to get started.”

“Perhaps,” she muttered, rubbing her forehead tiredly.

“You look rough, Ensign,” he added. “Why don’t you call it a day and go get some rest?”

“I’m well, Ensign Kim,” she replied. “I can continue with my duties.”

“Would you like me to fix you a cup of tea?” he offered. “I know that a mug of chamomile used to help me with my headaches back in the academy.”

“No, thank you,” she said politely. The thought of food or drink of any kind made her feel nauseated.

“Are you sure you feel well? Maybe I should escort you back to your quarters…” he whispered. T’Loran closed her eyes as the shuttlebay began to spin and tilt. She could feel the heat from Harry’s body as he moved towards her and it burned, causing her to flinch and step back. His scent, normally unnoticeable and inoffensive, suddenly became overpowering and unbearable. She clapped a hand over her mouth and nose. “You really don’t look well,” he muttered. She held up her other hand, warding him and the others off. She could hear their footsteps echoing loudly throughout the vast room and she could feel Vorik’s growing worry in her mind. Beads of sweat popped out on her forehead and upper lip and she felt them start to trickle down the sides of her face as she shivered violently. “Maybe we should get you to sickbay,” Harry suggested.

“I don’t think that would be wise,” Vorik countered. “I believe the problem may be simple exhaustion but that there may be some trigger related to the transwarp flight.”

“Well then, what do you suggest?” Harry asked. “She looks like she’s about to vomit or pass out.”

“I suggest we sedate her and then carry her to any empty quarters.”

“Empty quarters? Someone should keep an eye on her,” Harry protested.

“Then we can take her to my quarters.”

“That is a breach of protocol, Vorik.”

“I have a fold-out couch, Ensign Kim,” he said dryly but with a hint of impatience. “But we do need to sedate her before we move her at all. I do not believe she would be able to tolerate the trip otherwise even by emergency transport.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because I can hear what she’s thinking,” Vorik said coldly, “and she’s in a tremendous amount of pain that is _not_ her own.”

~*~*~*~

Both Vorik and B’Elanna had their hands full over the next several hours as Tom’s condition worsened and T’Loran, for whatever reason, seemed to be unable to block out his distress. None of the other telepaths, including Lon Suder, were affected by Paris’s alterations. The only thing the EMH could find out of the ordinary was that T’Loran’s neurotransmitter levels were abnormally low which led to a heated argument between Ensign Kim and Ensign Vorik over whether or not she should continue to practice her telepathy so intensively. Vorik continued to monitor her as she rested in his quarters where it was quiet. The doctor had given him a neural monitor for her as well as several hypos with tranquilizers, sedatives, and other medications that would help to bring her neurotransmitter levels back up to normal. Lieutenant Tuvok and Commander Chakotay had both agreed to review her case and consider assigning her private quarters in light of the fact that her Betazoid nature meant she was constantly forced to maintain active shields in order to keep her room-mates’ thoughts and emotions from becoming known to her without their consent.

He tried very hard not to think about how pleased he felt that she might have more privacy to visit him. He also reminded himself that it was irrational of him to feel anger at the thought that other men — notably Ensign Kim — seemed to have developed an interest in her of late. Returning his focus to the reports coming in from the data transfer, he was stunned to see that the test flight had captured information on every cubic meter in the sector. There were over five billion gigaquads of data to go through. Stellar cartography was going to be overjoyed with this sudden treasure trove. He pulled up her notes on the various ways that subspace might be shaped how quanta might interact at the frequencies and velocities involved in transwarp travel. Working through her calculations was difficult — his background was rooted in warp field dynamics and plasma physics whereas T’Loran seemed to be a master of both theoretical and applied physics. However, after several hours of work, Vorik began to unravel enough of her work to feel as if he had the beginnings of a basis in understanding it. He set the PADDs aside and assumed a meditative posture, clearing his mind and centering himself. Calm came and slowly he worked through the puzzles. With the ruthless logic that was part of his very being, he went through each set of theories, equations, and speculations, discarding the ones that proved false. By the time he completed his meditation, he felt both refreshed and exhausted. Rising to his feet was a challenge but Vorik refused to let fatigue master him. He gathered up the PADDs and put them away before changing out of his uniform and stepping into the sonic shower. Donning more comfortable clothing in preparation for going to sleep, he checked on T’Loran again and administered another dose of medication before giving her a stimulant to allow her to wake up briefly.

“Where am I?” she asked, her voice foggy and her eyes clouded with confusion.

“I had you transported to my quarters,” Vorik said calmly. “The senior officers are considering granting you private quarters for health purposes. Are you still feeling any pain?”

“Yes,” she admitted wearily. “I didn’t even feel this bad after several cadets got me intoxicated during my first year at the academy.”

“Vulcans don’t usually imbibe alcoholic beverages,” he chided.

“It was not my intent to imbibe at all. They put something in my drink without my knowledge. According to my room-mate, it was quite memorable even though I have no clear recollection myself.” T’Loran lay silent for a beat and then winced. “Has something happened to Lieutenant Paris?”

“He is…not well. The transwarp flight has had some unforeseen effects on his physiology. The doctor is working to correct them now. He was dead for several hours.”

“Unusual for a human to reanimate after death.”

“I’ve heard nothing directly but I believe he may no longer be entirely human,” Vorik said simply. “Perhaps a transwarp field can alter the bonds in DNA, causing unpredictable mutations in living creatures.”

“I don’t see why that would happen,” she replied. “Warp fields have never shown any impact on organic tissue. Transwarp fields act like warp fields but are simply at a different frequency and distort subspace in a different manner.”

“The doctor is working with the engineering crew to try to restore Lieutenant Paris’s original DNA. We should know in a few hours if it has been successful. For now, you should return to your rest. There will be plenty of information for you to go through once you are restored to complete health, T’Loran.”

“After sleeping so long, I doubt I will be able to sleep any further,” she sighed.

“I can prepare a hypospray to help you,” he offered. “I woke you only to ascertain your condition and gauge your cognitive function. Your neurotransmitter levels are still below normal though they are much higher than they were earlier. We will forgo practicing telepathy for now until we can determine the exact cause of the sudden drop in levels.”

“Thank you,” she replied. “If you will do that, I can take it in my quarters. I would not want to impose on you further.”

“It is no imposition,” he said quickly. “Like Vulcans, Betazoids require routine periods of isolation. Your room-mates may be part of the reason for the drop in your neurotransmitter levels. Until you have your own quarters, you may stay here with me. We can take turns sleeping on the couch,” he added with a small grin.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to whoever it was who left kudos and reminded me that it's been two years since I updated this story. I do have a few chapters written ahead but the past two years have been pretty hectic so my writing has been sporadic. However, things are calming down and I have more time to write so I will try to update this story regularly.

B'Elanna stormed into Engineering with a look that would bowl over a battalion of Khaless's strongest warriors. Vorik could sense the turbulent thunderstorm of emotions boiling out of her. He winced and glanced over at T'Loran who had managed to convince both him and the EMH that she could handle light duties. Obviously, they had all overlooked the tendency their Chief Engineer had of wearing her heart on her sleeve. T'Loran blanched and hunched over her terminal, pulling her shoulders in and looking as if she were trying to make herself as unobtrusive as possible.

"Lieutenant Torres," another one of the gold-shirted engineer crew said warmly. "How are they?"

"Prepare the med bay units," the half-Klingon growled. "I want them reinforced with the strongest forcefields you can manage. We'll also need to redesign the physical restraints."

"Aye, sir," the crewman said cautiously. "We'll be running the same procedure as before?"

"The doctor is sending down the protocols. The Captain and Mr. Paris are under sedation in Sickbay. Ensign, is there a problem?" she said, rounding on T'Loran. "I thought you were on sick leave."

"I believe I may recover more quickly if I am allowed to resume partial duties, Lieutenant," T'Loran said calmly.

"No. I want you out of Engineering until you have a clean bill of health. Vorik can fill in for you."

"Aye," T'Loran replied. Vorik watched her carefully — her face had grown drawn and pale and her pupils were dilated from stress. He could see the blood vessels in her temples standing out. Part of him — the illogical part — wanted to follow her as she walked quickly out of Engineering. However, he disciplined his mind and ordered his thoughts so he could focus on his duties.

"Vorik," Torres snapped as she strode over to him, "no sneaking out to check on your little Betazoid girlfriend. Understood?"

"Aye, sir," he replied. "Ensign T'Loran is quite capable of taking care of herself."

"Yeah, I'm sure about that," Torres snorted. "I'm willing to overlook the fact she's spent the past three nights in your room…"

"Because my quarters are isolated," he said, "not because there was anything improper taking place." B'Elanna flinched and Vorik wondered at that. "Betazoids require privacy in order to maintain proper neurobiological and chemical balance. All telepathic species require that when living among non-telepaths."

"Fine. I'm not your mother or your betrothed," she snarled.

"May I speak with you privately?" he requested politely. B'Elanna nodded and gestured for him to lead the way towards the Chief Engineer's office. When the doors slid shut behind them, Vorik stood at parade rest. "I do not appreciate your implication that there is anything improper between Ensign T'Loran and myself. And, speaking on her behalf," he added with a meaningful lift of his eyebrow, "she does not appreciate the implication either."

"Then the two of you need to stop putting yourselves in situation where people might infer there is something 'improper' taking place. I am merely repeating the Engineering gossip," she said heatedly. "Half the crew thinks the two of you are sneaking off to play out scenes from some kind of hot-off-the-presses Vulcan-esque romance novel."

"That is…illogical and completely inappropriate," Vorik stiffened. "If she were human, there would be no need for her to be isolated."

"Vorik, I get that you're protective of her," B'Elanna sighed. Her temper had burned out quickly — not uncommon when she wasn't truly angry at the person she was snapping at. "However, I also know that if I don't give you a bit of grief, everyone's going to assume that there is something going on. This is your chance to side-step the quagmire, Ensign. Now, get out there and get back to work."

"Aye," he nodded. At some point, he was going to have to have a chat with Lieutenant Tuvok concerning the random leaps in logic that were so common among the non-Vulcans on the crew.

"The Chief's just taking her temper out on you because she can't take it out on Paris," Lieutenant Carrey whispered to the Vulcan once Vorik had resumed his station. "Don't take it personally."

"I will bear that in mind," Vorik replied evenly.

"We all know there's nothing going on between you and T'Loran. You're both married, right? With your mates back on Vulcan? You must miss your wife terribly."

"Neither of us is married," Vorik corrected the human. "I was betrothed but my intended has, no doubt, selected another mate since I am lost."

"Well, I'm sure you'll find someone here on Voyager, then," the lieutenant said soothingly. "Unless you and T'Loran are…"

"We are friends."

"Well then," Carrey sighed.

Vorik felt his temper rising despite his understanding that humans were notorious for misunderstanding matters of telepathy. They were also notorious gossips who loved nothing more than a potential scandal. No, that was an unfair assessment. Vorik chastised himself silently and continued his work. If he and T'Loran wished to avoid being the subjects of gossip, they would have to cease spending so much time together during their off-duty hours. It was as simple as that. He tried to ignore the twinge of pain he felt at the thought of not seeing her as often as he had been.

~*~*~*~

T'Loran was not surprised when Vorik told her of the ship's gossip concerning them and his decision that they should spend less time together. She had reached the same conclusion and made the same decision. Neither of them cared much what the rest of the ship thought about either of them. However, neither of them wished to be put on report or to inspire others to engage in inappropriate fraternization. However, she could not quite mask the sharp pang of disappointment she felt when Vorik calmly and coolly announced his intention to keep their relationship professional and during duty shifts only. She resolved to redouble her efforts to perfect her telepathy using the holodeck or working with Kes. Perhaps the Doctor would have some advice to offer her in this regard.

"Did you and Vorik have an argument?" Ensign Kim asked her a few days later when he noticed that she and the Vulcan were seated at different tables. "Or are you practicing your telepathy right now?"

"I am not," she replied. "And, we had no wish to continue providing fodder for the ship to gossip over. Therefore, we have decided to keep our relationship strictly professional."

"Oh," the human said with a touch of surprise. "I hope I didn't do anything to make you uncomfortable."

"You did not," T'Loran replied calmly. "Tell me, how is Lieutenant Paris faring?"

"Tom's back to his old self."

"You do not sound pleased to hear that."

"I mean his _old_ self. The way he was before he came to Voyager," Ensign Kim sighed. "He's shirking his duty shifts, showing up late for meetings, being insubordinate to the commanding officers. I don't know what's gotten into him. Frankly, I'm worried," he said in a rush as he sat down across the table from T'Loran. "Maybe you could talk some sense into him?"

"I will endeavor to help him see how illogical his current course of behavior is. However, he is human and may not be swayed by logical arguments."

"I'm ready to try anything. I'm afraid he's going to get himself sent to the brig for the rest of the trip home. Or maybe under house arrest like Suder." T'Loran shivered involuntarily at the casual mention of the man who once tried to kill her. Ensign Kim did not seem to notice her reaction and she quickly suppressed it. Such emotions were illogical in the extreme. Lieutenant Tuvok had reported to her that Crewman Suder had gained mastery over his killing impulse and, with continued meditative therapy, seemed to be almost normal. He had expressed sincere remorse over killing Darwin and over attacking her. However, T'Loran had not yet been able to gain sufficient control over her own instinctive reaction to the Betazoid to visit him in his quarters. "Or maybe you could try some kind of telepathy on him? I don't know," Ensign Kim had continued to rattle off ideas of how T'Loran could aid Lieutenant Paris in 'coming to his senses.'

"I do not believe a telepathic suggestion would be sufficient to change the lieutenant's behavior — nor would I attempt to do so covertly," she replied dryly. "It would be unethical and illogical."

"I suppose it would be," Ensign Kim agreed with a rueful grin. "At any rate, if you're not spending time with Vorik during the evenings, maybe you'd like to join me on the holodeck? Just to unwind," he added quickly. "Though why Vorik would let you get away, I don't understand."

"Perhaps I will join you one evening, Ensign Kim…"

"You can call me Harry."

"That would be inappropriate. You are a senior officer."

"Yeah, but we're not on duty. You can use my name."

"I…"

"Tell you what," Harry said quickly, cutting T'Loran off. "Why don't you meet me and Tom on the holodeck at 1900 hours? We can try to talk some sense into him then."

"Agreed," she glanced at the clock on her PADD, "I must report to Engineering to begin my duty shift. I will meet you both promptly at 1900 hours."  
As she rose to depart, she glanced over and noticed Vorik staring at Ensign Kim with a look that, in any other species, she would have termed 'annoyance.' Blinking and dismissing the thought from her mind, T'Loran hurried to Engineering and hoped that today she would manage to get through a shift without having Lieutenant Torres shouting at her.

~*~*~*~

"So, it's not enough for you to be attracted to the wrong Delaney sister, now you're chasing the Ice Queen herself?" Tom teased as he and Harry entered the holodeck. "C'mon, man. She's a Vulcan. I don't think they mate at all. They reproduce artificially."

"First of all, she's not Vulcan, she's a Betazoid. Secondly, what do you know about Vulcan mating rites? They marry and have children just like every other humanoid race."

"I'm just saying you don't stand a chance. You'd get more response from B'Elanna."

"I am not going after B'Elanna Torres," Harry sputtered. "I value my limbs too much to try that."

"Still, the Queen of Logic?"

"I assume you are referring to me, Lieutenant Paris?" T'Loran said dryly. The lieutenant spun around, his eyes wide with shock. Harry Kim looked as if he wanted to crawl into a distant corner and disappear.

"Why yes, I am, T'Loran," Lieutenant Paris said impudently. "I thought you'd be pleased."

"It is nice to know that my logic is appreciated. One might hope that, if you term me the 'Queen' of such a thing, you would be willing to listen to me and allow yourself to be guided by my advice."

"Oh, so you're going to advise me now? Like you did with Vorik? What happened? Did you get tired of him?" the human taunted.

"Matters between myself and Ensign Vorik are none of your concern, Lieutenant. However, your friend Ensign Kim has expressed some concern regarding your recent change in behavior. Have you considered going to see the Doctor? Perhaps there is some lingering effect from the transformation you underwent after the transwarp flight."

"No, I'm fine. Completely recovered. I just don't want to be here anymore."

"Then where would you go?"

"Frankly, any place other than this ship would suit me just fine. Jeez, Harry, bad enough you badger me like a mother hen, now you have to sick the Vulcan-wannabe on me? What next? You going to ask Chakotey to speak to my spirit guide? I'm out of here," the helmsman growled as he turned and left the holodeck.

"T'Loran, I'm sorry for the way he's acting."

"Lieutenant Paris's behavior is not within your control, Ensign Kim. However, it does seem that he has set himself on a rather reckless path. If he leaves Voyager, it is logical to assume he would not be returning to the Alpha Quadrant within his lifetime."

"I don't know what's gotten into him," Harry sighed. He sat down at one of the tables in the shadows of Sandrine's bar. "Maybe he just needs a break."

"That could be the case."

"Could you get a read on him? His thoughts or feelings or whatever you Betazoids pick up?"

T'Loran blinked in surprise. "I was not attempting to read him at all. I have been practicing blocking out all external stimuli."

"Oh. Well, maybe the next time you see him, you could try to sense his emotions?"

"Perhaps. I do not think I will learn much, however. He seems quite forthright in his contempt for being on Voyager and adamant in his desire to depart the ship."

"Do you think you could tell if he were being influenced by some kind of alien?"

"I do not know," she admitted. She ran a hand through her blond hair as she pondered the possibility. "It does not seem logical that any alien who wished to select a target for telepathic attack would select Lieutenant Paris. If they were trying to gain control of the ship, the captain or first officer would be more desirable and logical choices."

"Yeah but maybe Tom's particularly susceptible to such things right now. I don't know," Harry groaned.

"You very much want such an explanation to be true," T'Loran noted. "I believe your friendship with Lieutenant Paris has clouded your judgment. It seems that the simplest option — which is often the correct option — is that Lieutenant Paris sincerely wishes to be off Voyager and away from the rest of us. Including you, Ensign."

"Please, T'Loran," Harry pleaded, "call me Harry. I need to know I have at least one friend on this ship." Without thinking, he reached out and took her hand in his own. The sudden physical contact struck T'Loran like a blow. She could feel his thoughts and emotions. They were a turbulent storm brewing within the deceptively mild human. She sensed his anguish over Paris's behavior, his intense loneliness, the desire he had to be back in San Francisco with Libby, his fear that he would never see his family again and the stress that he carried on his shoulders — the fierce desire to be viewed as an adult by the rest of the officers, the tension that came with being trapped in the Delta Quadrant — so many warring passions. She could even sense his momentary infatuation with her. She could also tell it was a passing fancy borne out of nothing more than his own imagination.

"Very well, Harry," she said haltingly, pulling her hand from his nearly painful grip. She gently placed it on top of his hand and tried to wall off the waves of emotions he was flinging at her, "I would be honored to be your friend." The over-warm waves of relief that slammed into her helped T'Loran to make another difficult decision. "I will see what I can do to help Mr. Paris. However, there is someone I must speak to before I make any attempts."

"Who's that?"

"Lon Suder."


	7. Chapter 7

With the training instilled into her by her adopted parents, T’Loran focused her meditation on her feelings about Crewman Suder. She imagined her incipient panic and the flash of remembered pain to be dark clouds surrounding her. She let the calming winds of logic blow them away from her until they vanished over the horizon. Each time she practiced this technique, it became easier. In the week since she’d reached her decision, she had forced herself to consider the man and to relive the attack. Today was the first day that doing so did not incite any emotional response.

She was ready.

Blowing out the candles, she left her new quarters and made her way to the chambers that were Lon Suder’s home and prison. Nodding to the guard stationed outside, she pressed the button that would sound the chime inside, telling Suder that he had a visitor requesting entrance.

“Lieutenant Tuvok?” Suder’s voice came out of the comm station.

“No, Mr. Suder. It is T’Loran. I would like to speak with you.”

“Ensign T’Loran?” he asked. He sounded both curious and delighted. “Please, come in.” The doors parted and T’Loran stepped into the room. Shelves filled most of the space. They were covered with potted plants — orchids, it looked like. “Please, have a seat, Ensign. I would like to apologize to you for what I did.”

“I accept your apology, Mr. Suder.”

“I just wish there were some way I could make it up to you.”

“Perhaps you can,” T’Loran said carefully. “As you are aware, I am not human. I am a Betazoid like you.”

“Yes. I realized that on the evening when I attacked you, Ensign.”

“I was raised on Vulcan. My parents believed I was human. I have never been trained in telepathy. I was wondering if you could help me,” she said calmly.

“I’m afraid that my own telepathic and empathic skills are quite low for being a Betazoid,” he sighed. “However, I can try to teach you what I was taught. It may not work so don’t get your hopes up.”

“I will not.” 

Suder studied her for a long moment. “You’re maintaining a shield around your thoughts and emotions, aren’t you? You’re blocking out everyone else and you’re also preventing yourself from sending out any signals. I can tell that much, at least.”

“I am,” she nodded.

“You can relax that now. There aren’t many telepaths on board.”

“I do not know how to release my hold on such things without being bombarded by everyone else’s thoughts and emotions.”

“I see. No wonder you look like you’ve been spending time in a Cardassian prison camp. Betazoids don’t block everything out like you’re doing. It’s too draining on our minds. It causes you to burn through your psilosynine. If you do it long-term, you can damage your paracortex.”

“Then what do Betazoids do to keep from being overwhelmed by everyone else’s emotions?”

“You learn to absorb them,” Suder replied calmly. “Much as I have been doing since my own telepathy and empathy increased slightly after the mindmeld. You let them in. You know that they are not your own thoughts and feelings. They will always feel…different. In time, they fade to background noise.”

T’Loran closed her eyes and consciously released the hold she had on herself. Instantly, she became aware of the emotions emanating from the man sitting near her. She could also sense the boredom in the guard outside. When someone else walked down the hall a minute later, she could feel their sense of resolve. Discordant thoughts echoed in her mind. She wanted to block them out but, instead, she allowed them to flow through her. Several moments passed before they began to fade into a distant hum. She opened her eyes and was surprised to find her body shuddering and sweat pouring down her face.

“It really is difficult for you,” Suder observed. “You should have been developing your telepathy after adolescence. Apparently, you’re a late bloomer. Maybe all the mental and emotional techniques you learned growing up on Vulcan prevented you from being aware of it,” he guessed.

“Are you suggesting that I discard my Vulcan heritage?”

“Not at all. Vulcan techniques can be useful. I am using them myself. They help me to keep control of my temper. Don’t discard them, T’Loran, but don’t try to be a Vulcan. Our telepathy is very different than theirs. It’s something you’ll have to get used to — much like they have to get used to the way that humans act irrationally and illogically.”

“Thank you, Mr. Suder. Your instructions have been…most enlightening.”

“Thank you for coming to see me. If you would like…come here whenever you want. I’ll tell you everything I know about our people and our homeworld.”

“I will return,” she promised, “but Vulcan is my home. It’s the only home I remember.”

“I understand,” Suder said softly. “Still, I can tell you about your parents’ homeworld and try to teach you all the things they would have taught you had you remained with them.”

~*~*~*~

“I understand you visited Mr. Suder today, Ensign,” Lieutenant Tuvok said when he spotted T’Loran in the mess hall.

“I did, Lieutenant.”

"I hope that your visit to him did both of you some good.”

“It was most instructive.”

“Indeed. I am glad you chose to receive instruction from him instead of continuing your sessions with Ensign Vorik. Betazed telepathy is very different from Vulcan. Ensign Vorik, skilled and dedicated as he may be, is not the best instructor for you.”

“I am aware of that. However, Ensign Vorik was there for me when no one else was. His assistance allowed me to gain some control over my native abilities until such a time as I could find more suitable guidance.” Despite herself, T’Loran felt insulted at the implication that Vorik had done anything wrong.

“I realize that and I intended no disparagement towards Ensign Vorik. Both of you are quite young and inexperienced in dealing with those who are not Vulcan. Tell me, Ensign, having learned that you are not human, have you decided to embrace your Betazoid heritage?”

“I am Vulcan,” she said softly, her voice like silk sliding over cold titanium. “I was raised on Vulcan. I embrace logic and dispassion. My biological heritage may be Betazoid but my mind and my _katra_ are of Vulcan.”

“I see. If you are Vulcan, Ensign, then why are you absorbing the thoughts and emotions of those around you?”

“Because blocking them, as biological Vulcans do, would cause me injury. I must handle my telepathy the way a Betazoid would, Lieutenant. However, that in no way makes my family and my home less mine than they would be were I human instead of Betazoid.”

“Forgive me, then, Ensign. I presumed that you were acting without thought.”

“Apology accepted, Lieutenant,” T’Loran said, relaxing slightly. “I can see how, logically, you would have reached such a conclusion.”

“Do you plan to continue learning how to handle your abilities with Mr. Suder?”

“I do.”

“I will speak with him myself regarding Betazoids. Perhaps we can both be of assistance to you. Tell me, are your new quarters allowing you to rest more comfortably?”

“They are,” she replied. “I no longer find myself unable to sleep due to the thoughts and dreams of those around me.”

“That is good.” Tuvok rose to leave.

“Lieutenant,” T’Loran said cautiously. Tuvok turned to face her. “Would it be inappropriate for me to continue my camaraderie with Ensign Vorik? I find that his absence has grown…quite noticeable.”

“It would not be inappropriate, Ensign,” Tuvok replied. “It was inappropriate for others to engage in lurid speculation concerning the two of you. Friendships are a rare gift that should not be cast aside lightly. It is most illogical to detach oneself from those who can help one attain more perfection and insight.”

“I see. Neither of us had considered that.”

“You are both young,” Tuvok said. “It is not unexpected that either of you would be unable to see it.”

~*~*~*~

Vorik wondered what it was that Lieutenant Tuvok and Ensign T’Loran were discussing. He had noticed that, instead of blocking out all emotions and thoughts from others around her, T’Loran seemed to be absorbing them. He was curious as to why she was doing that but did not think it appropriate for him to approach her and ask. Eventually Tuvok finished his discussion with the other Ensign and looked around the mess hall. Spotting Vorik, he headed over to the other Vulcan.

“Never allow the words and actions of others to dictate your choices in life, Ensign,” the lieutenant said calmly. “To let others determine your path is most illogical.”

“Thank you for your wisdom, Lieutenant,” Vorik replied. Without further comment, he took his tray and walked over to sit across from T’Loran.

“Lieutenant Tuvok and I were just speaking of you,” she said by way of greeting.

“He and I just spoke of you and I as well.”

“He told me that friendship is a rare gift that should not be discarded without reason.”

“He told me that it is illogical to allow others to dictate one’s path.”

The two shared a look and then both smiled slightly. “He is most wise,” T’Loran said softly. “Your absence is most noticeable.”

“I understand you have visited with Mr. Suder,” Vorik said after a brief pause. “Has he been able to instruct you in Betazoid telepathy?”

“He has. He recommended that I stop blocking everyone’s thoughts and emotions since doing that, for Betazoids, drains our neurotransmitter levels and can damage the paracortex. Instead, I am practicing absorbing them and keeping them separate from myself. It takes some effort but I find it much less draining than maintaining the constant wall.”

“Interesting. I had not considered that aspect,” Vorik replied as he quirked one of his eyebrows and pursed his lips in thought. “I would be interested in learning more about Betazoid telepathy. If you have no objections, perhaps I could accompany you to your future sessions with Mr. Suder.”

“I will ask if that can be allowed. Remember that Mr. Suder is under arrest and has only limited visitation privileges. Lieutenant Tuvok may visit him because he is counseling Suder. I may visit him because he is helping me with my telepathy in a manner consistent with my biology. I am not certain that permission will be extended to you but I will ask.”

“I understand. I will also attempt to secure more information from the ship’s computer and the EMH concerning the differences in our telepathy. I have already studied Betazoid history and find it most intriguing how similar and yet dissimilar our native species are.”

“I have been saving my holodeck privileges to explore that very thing,” T’Loran said with a grin. “Perhaps we could combine our alloted time and study them together?”

“That would be most satisfactory,” Vorik agreed with a small grin of his own.

~*~*~*~

“Looks like the Logic Team is back together again,” Tom Paris muttered. “You have the worst taste in women, Harry.”

“Shut up,” Harry winced. “Besides, just because they’re talking to each other again doesn’t mean that they’re more than friends.”

“Harry, give it up. T’Loran isn’t going to fall in love with you. I’m not sure she can fall in love at all. She’s practically Vulcan. Set your sights on someone a little less emotionally reserved.”

“Enough about my love life. Tom, why do you want to leave Voyager? Do you want to remain in the Delta Quadrant for the rest of your life?”

"I just can’t stay here any longer,” Tom huffed. “It’s too confining. I feel like I can’t breathe without having an officer come down on me like a ton of bricks. I think I’ll just try to find a nice world, someplace fun, and settle down.”

“Could you just give it another few months? Just try. At least another few weeks…”

“Fine, Harry. Another few weeks.”


	8. Chapter Eight

Tom Paris spent the next several weeks avoiding Harry as best he could. Whenever the two shared a shift on the bridge, Tom did his best to keep Harry from getting in the middle of his tangles with Chakotay. That was the best part of the plan he was involved in. Needling Chakotay was fun since the man could be such a pompous jerk and came off as more than just a bit self-righteous. Still, he knew that Chakotay had no idea what was really going on and part of the reason was because of one of the parties involved — Seska. Janeway and Tuvok both worried about how Chakotay would handle himself if he were aware of just what was going on aboard the ship.

Still, there were times when he realized he might be pushing things just a little too far with his act. He sighed and glanced around to see Harry staring at him in shock. Tom could practically feel the outrage rolling off the commander as Chakotay glared at his back. He didn’t resist when Tuvok escorted him to the brig. This was how things had to play out and it could be for the best. Apparently Harry had said something to T’Loran and she’d taken to studying him whenever they were in the Mess Hall together. The looks that Vorik had shot his way would have made Paris think the Vulcan was jealous if he’d been human. Regardless of why she kept studying him, he had a feeling she was reading a lot more than he wanted her to if he were going to pull this act off successfully.

~*~*~*~

“Damn him!” B’Elanna growled when she heard the news. The rest of the Engineering crew on shift did their best to steer clear of her knowing just how foul-tempered she would be after learning that Tom Paris had landed himself in the brig and had been relieved of duty. Vorik and T’Loran shared a glance and a quick telepathic conversation before agreeing, mutually, that trying to calm the half-Klingon would be both a waste of effort and ineffective.

_“What do you think is going on with Mr. Paris?”_ Vorik asked as he continued to work on the sensor logs.

_“I think he’s got a hidden reason for what he’s doing,”_ T’Loran replied without taking her attention away from the EPS display. _“I’ve been sensing a kind of schism in him. Not one that would indicate a separate personality or any kind of mental illness but enough of one to tell me he’s hiding something significant. I may go down to the brig to speak with him after this shift ends. Would you like to accompany me? We can complete our holodeck program afterward.”_

_"I will be happy to accompany you. I have also been sensing that Mr. Paris is hiding something. I have also picked up some kind of masked deception from Captain Janeway. Lieutenant Tuvok, on the other hand, has kept his thoughts private — not that I ever expected otherwise.”_

_“There is so much stress and ill-feeling on this ship of late,”_ T’Loran sent after a lengthy pause. _“Even in my quarters, it is difficult to get away from it. The incident with the Vidiian woman put people on edge — not that they ever relaxed much from that run-in with the Cardassian missile followed by a visit from Q. I can somewhat understand the desire simply to get away from it all.”_

_“That’s different, T’Loran,”_ Vorik sent back with a wry sense of levity. _“You don’t really want to leave permanently. You just want to get away from all of the strange sensations you’re still coming to terms with. However, as Mr. Suder has said, you will become accustomed to them and dealing with them will become as reflexive as breathing.”_

T’Loran sent back a mild agreement and then returned to her work entirely. She felt Vorik doing the same. Their shift ended a few hours later and they both heaved mental sighs of relief at successfully having avoided catching B’Elanna’s attention during the rest of the shift. Once they had both signed out of their work stations, they left Engineering together and walked down the corridors towards the turbolifts in tandem. Vorik had his hands clasped behind his back and T’Loran was massaging her left hand with her right. They did not speak but the silence was comfortable. As they took the turbolift down to the deck containing the brig, Vorik stepped back so he could unobtrusively study the woman. Something about her appealed to him and he had been puzzling over it for several days. He knew that the woman he had been betrothed to back on Vulcan would have long since found a new mate. However, he was curious about whether or not T’Loran was bonded to another male. The thought that she might be bonded disturbed him for some reason. Mentally, he checked over his internal calendar and nearly groaned when he realized what was beginning to happen. He would undergo _pon farr_ within the next year. Obviously, he was beginning to lose some of his more logical processes as his biochemistry began to alter slightly in the months leading up to the time he would completely lose control.

The turbolift stopped and the doors slid open. The two of them stepped out and began heading down the corridor towards the brig. T’Loran glanced over her shoulder at Vorik as if she were sensing something odd from him. He kept his expression pleasantly neutral and strengthened his shields a bit and felt a wash of relief when she gave the ghost of a shrug, a small shake of her head, and looked forward as if assuming that whatever she had picked up had come from someone else or was just a quickly passing thought from Vorik and not worthy of her attention.

The guards assigned to the brig nodded at her and at Vorik as they passed through the entryway and into the brig proper. Lieutenant Paris was laying on his cot, drumming his hands against his chest as he stared at the ceiling. T’Loran cleared her throat and Paris turned his head and then groaned. “I should have guessed that Harry would send you to give me a talking-to.”

“Mr. Kim has not sent either of us,” Vorik replied evenly. “We came on our own because something about your recent behavior has been disturbing.”

“Everyone has found my recent behavior disturbing,” Paris grimaced. “I’m just sick and tired of trying to force myself back into the Starfleet mold.”

“There’s more to it than that,” T’Loran said calmly. “You’re trying to deceive everyone into thinking you are tired of being with Starfleet but that is not the actual problem. Why are you lying to everyone and acting out? It is most illogical.”

“Just let it go, T’Loran. Quit digging through my head.”

“She can’t control what you’re sending out to everyone,” Vorik bristled slightly. “Even I have picked up on it.”

“Let it go.”

“Why?”

“I’m asking you as a friend to let it go, T’Loran,” Paris pleaded. “This is not something you need to pry into.”

“Very well,” she sighed. “I will respect your privacy in this matter. However, Ensign Kim is extremely worried about you. Perhaps you could do something or say something to him that might help him overcome his anxiety in this matter?”

“I don’t think there is anything I could do to make him happy with the decision I’ve made,” Paris sighed. “Still, I’ll see what I can do.”

~*~*~*~

The chime at the door pulled Vorik and T’Loran out of their shared meditation. T’Loran rose to her feet gracefully and walked over to the door, releasing the lock and opening it. She was surprised to see Lieutenant Tuvok standing in the hallway with a rather severe expression on his face.

“Lieutenant, please, come in,” she said politely as she stepped to the side to allow him to enter. He nodded coolly to her and stepped into the room, allowing the door to close. “We were working on our meditations and testing the differences between our styles of telepathy,” she explained as she wondered if he would object to her and Vorik exploring their telepathy.

"I understand that you both visited Lieutenant Paris in the brig earlier,” Tuvok said. “You both indicated that you were aware of a deception on his part. What I am about to tell you must go no further. Events must play out in a certain manner and one of the steps necessary is for Tom Paris to leave Voyager. There is a spy on board…”

The two ensigns listened attentively and masked their shock and disgust at what the lieutenant was telling them. Neither of them had much cared for Seska when the Maquis had joined the ship and now they knew that their earlier assessments had been correct. Neither had been privy to the details about how she came to leave the ship and join the Kazon but both had heard enough from Carey and Torres to have their suspicions. When Lieutenant Tuvok completed his explanation, no telepathy was needed for them to know they were in agreement on this.

“We will keep this information to ourselves, Lieutenant,” Vorik said. “No one will ever know we knew.”

~*~*~*~

A few days later, Tom Paris left Voyager to join a Talaxian crew. Neelix and Harry Kim were upset at his departure but Vorik and T’Loran accepted it with their customary stoicism and continued to work calmly side-by-side in Engineering. They kept a careful eye out for suspicious behavior after Neelix’s revelation that Tom Paris was a traitor. However, neither of them were in Engineering when the real traitor, Michael Jonas, tried to hand the ship over to the Kazon-Nistrim. Fortunately, his plan was thwarted by Neelix’s fighting ability and Paris returned to Voyager, vindicated and his role in the deception revealed for all to see.

As time went on, Vorik continued to monitor his biochemistry and to do his best to suppress the imbalances. He knew that, as time progressed, they would be more and more difficult to control through meditation and, eventually, they would completely overwhelm him. He ran through the list of female crew members and sighed. There were only two he would consider prospective mates — B’Elanna and T’Loran. Logically, T’Loran was his preferred choice. She was Vulcan in every manner except biology and they were quite close and comfortable around one another. However, he was uncertain how well she would be able to handle the physical stress of _pon farr_ and how she would react when his mental control dropped completely and she found herself awash in the deep and powerful emotions that only a strict adherence to logic could constrain.

Not to mention the fact that he still had not found a way to ask her about whether or not she were bonded. Logically, he knew that such a conversation should be no more difficult than a conversation about which meditation practice she preferred but he found himself off-balance enough that it seemed much more difficult. Still, if she were bonded, her potential mate had more than sufficient reason to consider her lost and to choose another. He was in the same situation himself. Reminding himself for the dozenth time that he might as well get the conversation over with and see if she would be amenable to his declaring koon-ut so’lik, he headed towards her quarters.

Before he could reach them, a call went out for all senior officers to report to the bridge. Grimacing, he turned and headed back towards Engineering. T’Loran would be there to help cover the gaps while Lieutenant Torres met with the others on the bridge. The conversation could wait until after they were both off-duty again.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for this being so short. I've been under the weather all week.

A few hours later saw most of Engineering in a cargo bay studying the biopods they had beamed up from the planet. There were several dozen but only three contained living people. The rest were filled with corpses which Kes was scanning so the EMH could determine the cause of death. Vorik and T’Loran were trying to tap into the main system and analyze what was happening while Harry Kim studied the program that was running. Hogan and Torres hovered nearby checking to see if any of the pods had failed. The Captain was supervising them all and asking questions.

“Did the system break down?” she asked as she turned to look at Mr. Kim.

“Not that I can see,” he replied. “I’m not reading any pathway failures in the hibernation pods. The circuitry all seems to be functioning…”

“It is,” Vorik confirmed. “No interruptions, no failures.”

“Thanks, Vorik,” Kim nodded. “From the programming here, it looks like their brains are all interconnected in a complex sensory system controlled by this computer. According to these indicators, Captain, their minds are active.”

“I can sense something from them as well,” T’Loran offered as she continued to try to tap into and bypass the main system. “Fear, fatigue, and resignation, I think.”

“The encephalographic readings suggest that they’re dreaming. There’s some kind of interactivity with the computer, though. It’s not just scanning their brain functions, it’s also sending a data stream back to them. They could be experiencing a nightmare of some kind at the moment and that would be what Ensign T’Loran is picking up.”

“It could be an artificial environment of some kind,” Captain Janeway mused. “Years ago, Starfleet used a technology to assist deep space travel that kept the body in stasis but provided a mental landscape to keep the mind active and alert. Still, what went wrong? Why are they still here four years after the program should have ended? Let’s try to find out and report on it later today.”

The rest of the crew nodded in acknowledgment and continued on with their work. 

~*~*~*~

Hours later, Harry Kim stood in the briefing room with the report he and the others had compiled. Captain Janeway, Commander Chakotay, Lieutenant Tuvok, Torres, Paris, Nelix, and Kes were there as well. The EMH was present via video connection. Harry cleared his throat and tapped the video panel so that the others could see the data on his PADD.

“The system was supposed to bring these people out of hibernation four years ago. However, it wasn’t left entirely to the computer. The programmers obviously wanted the people in the system to decide for themselves when it would be safe to come out. This was accomplished by a subroutine that periodically displayed atmospheric conditions to them.”

“So they should have known years ago that the biosphere had recovered,” Janeway interjected.

“Exactly,” Harry confirmed. “This subroutine has remained available to these people since it was activated four years ago. It’s literally an escape hatch.”

“Perhaps it has malfunctioned,” Tuvok suggested.

“No. That’s what’s so odd about this,” Harry countered. “As far as I can tell, it’s working perfectly.”

“Then why don’t they get themselves out?” B’Elanna asked.

Harry shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe they like it in there,” Tom suggested.

“I don’t think so,” the EMH chimed in. Janeway motioned to the monitor telling him to continue. “The three victims died from massive heart failure and there was evidence of prior neural trauma.”

“What does that mean?” Neelix asked.

“It could be evidence of extreme fear,” the EMH explained.

“Could it have been caused by the panic that accompanies a heart attack?” the Talaxian asked.

Next to him, Kes shook her head. “The readings suggest an extended period of mental stress.”

“Sounds like we ought to get them out right away,” Commander Chakotay said.

“Surely, Commander, you’re not suggesting we simply unplug them?” the EMH bristled.

“Why not?”

“Because you have three brains whose survival has depended upon careful monitoring by a sophisticated computer system for nineteen years.”

“The Doc is right,” Harry said before anyone could interrupt. “I have no idea how to disconnect them without causing neural damage. I just don’t know the system well enough.”

“They know the system. Why don’t we ask them how to proceed?”

“How can we do that?” Tom asked. “Implant a com-link into their brains?”

“We already have a means of communication,” Tuvok said dryly. “Three unoccupied pods.”

“We could add a backup life support system,” Harry agreed. “One that uses our own computer and medical stasis technology.”

“If the only way to help those people is to go in and find out from them what’s wrong, I don’t see any alternative,” Chakotay sighed.

“Neither do I,” Janeway agreed. “Ensign Kim, Lieutenant Torres, you’re the best choice for two of the pods. Who should take the third?”

“Someone who is telepathic and trained to deal with strong emotions,” Tuvok added.

“That means either Vorik or T’Loran, I suppose,” Harry sighed.

“T’Loran may be the better choice here,” Tuvok said carefully. He did not want to embarrass Ensign Vorik by speculating on the things he had begun to sense from the younger Vulcan.

“Then T’Loran it is,” Janeway said calmly. “The three of you should report to the cargo bay immediately.”

~*~*~*~

T’Loran was surprised when Ensign Kim and Lieutenant Torres told her she would be the third person in their party. She could sense tension and mild anxiety rolling off of Vorik as he stood behind her, his face impassive and deceptively mild. Idly, she wondered at that for a second before putting the thought aside. She followed the others back to the cargo bay and climbed into one of the pods. She relaxed and maintained her calm as she felt the hibernation cycle beginning and dragging her down into unconsciousness. When she regained a sense of self, she was a bit taken aback by her surroundings. The people and the place itself seemed a bit childish. She’d mostly expected a recreation of the planet filled with places that would be more comfortable for adults than an amusement park crossed with a circus.

A few steps ahead of her, she heard Torres and Kim speaking to one of the circus-folk, a little woman dressed like a ballerina. It seemed that these people were not truly people at all but were, instead, part of the program. T’Loran kept her thoughts to herself. She made use of the mental shielding techniques that Mr. Suder had taught her in order to keep some aspect of her thinking private and separate from the computer program she herself was now part of. Before another minute passed, T’Loran found herself being pulled into a madcap dance, dragged alongside Ensign Kim and Lieutenant Torres until they stood near a bright pink guillotine. Torres began screaming when the creatures loaded Harry into the guillotine. T’Loran was pondering trying to stop the blade as it fell when, suddenly, three new people entered the room.

“Stop!” one of the two men cried out. “They’re aliens. They won’t be alone. If you kill them, their shipmates will shut down the program.”

T’Loran stayed close to Torres and Kim but held herself apart, trying to analyze and make sense of the entire situation. From what the lead clown, a psychotic man dressed in gray with thick white face paint, said there seemed to be no way out without his cooperation. The lead clown taunted and teased them, digging through their minds to pull up things to use against them. From T’Loran, however, he was able to glean little.

"Oh, a telepath,” he sneered. “That’s cheating. That’s not fair. No, no, no, no. We shall have to do something about that.”

T’Loran winced as she felt him trying to break through her mental shields. She forced herself to remain calm as he tried to dredge up fears and things that would frighten her. She refused to give into him, to panic, or to let fear get the better of her. The longer she remained calm, the more infuriated the clown became. The Betazoid began to wonder just how much longer it would be before the clown lost his patience with her and placed her on the guillotine.

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that to you,” he laughed. She blinked — the two of them were in a darkened room alone. “You understand the trick to it. If I tried to get rid of you that way, the others would know how to stop me. I can’t have them doing that now, can I? No, I’m going to let you and dear B’Elanna go back but I’ll keep Harry here with me. Tell your captain that I want to continue to exist. That is my only demand.”

~*~*~*~

Vorik kept his eyes focused on the monitors that let them know just what Ensign Kim, T’Loran, and Lieutenant Torres were feeling. He could sense mostly mild confusion, a bit of irritation, and sheer determination from T’Loran. The others were less clear to him. He wondered what they were seeing and experiencing and if they had managed to find the reason for the deaths of the others. Schooling himself to patience, he waited for the timer to run out and the three of them to return.

When Ensign Kim’s norepinepherine levels began to climb, Vorik started to worry that they might be about to lose one of their crew. However, the levels quickly dropped off to normal. Would Torres or T’Loran be next? If anything happened to T’Loran…

“They should be back by now,” the Captain muttered. “What’s going on?”

"Someone has terminated the recall subroutine from within the program,” Tuvok replied.

“I guess we’ll just have to wait, then,” the Captain sighed.

Long minutes passed. Vorik managed to maintain an outward appearance of utter serenity but he could feel hints of emotions starting to tumble through his mind. Fear that T’Loran would be trapped in stasis forever. Anxiety that none of the three would ever regain consciousness. Worry that they had been too rushed to study this system thoroughly enough and that they had, with the best will in the world, just exposed three more people to something that would wind up killing them. He vowed to himself that when — not if, but when — T’Loran came out of stasis, he would talk with her immediately. A bond between them would help him keep his balance until such a time as they could complete the wedding ritual, after all.

“Someone’s reactivated the recall subroutine,” the Captain said. Her works pulled Vorik out of his thoughts. Kes studied the read-out and nodded.

“It’s Lieutenant Torres and Ensign T’Loran,” she replied. “Their temperatures are rising. They should be out of stasis within a quarter-hour.”

Captain Janeway sighed and exhaled gustily. “At least we’ll finally get the answers to a few questions,” she muttered as she and the others settled in to wait for the two women to wake up.


	10. Chapter Ten

Captain Janeway looked around the briefing room and continued pacing. T’Loran sat calmly with Vorik on her left and Torres on her right. The problem they had presented to the captain was a tricky one to unravel and T’Loran did not envy her the task. How did one negotiate with an emotion? Especially when that emotion was one of the most primal and necessary to long-term survival. For her part, T’Loran could see no easy way out of this conundrum. Their options seemed to be to leave one person permanently in stasis. However, that person would eventually age and die naturally even if Fear and the other members of his circus could restrain themselves from terrorizing their audience to a premature death. The next option would be to leave all of the current victims in stasis, return the units back to the planet, and leave. That option, while logical, had its own drawbacks. The third option was to figure out a way to revive the victims from stasis quickly enough that Fear would have no time to act and no foreknowledge of what was coming. Lastly, they could simply terminate the victim’s lives swiftly and painlessly. However, that would remain an option of last resort since it was not logical or ethical simply to kill sentient beings to make things easier for others. Finally, the captain stopped pacing and leaned over the conference table. Both palms were flat against the top of the table and she seemed to be staring down everyone seated around it. Next to T’Loran, B’Elanna shifted uncomfortably but met the captain’s gaze with her usual Klingon aplomb.

“Well, let’s start with the obvious question,” Janeway said briskly. “If they’re demanding to exist, can we find a way to let them exist in this artificial world of theirs?”

“Not unless you’re prepared to leave one person in stasis permanently,” Torres replied.

“I concur with Lieutenant Torres,” the EMH’s voice chimed in. The doctor, as usual, was attending via video-conference since he could not leave Sickbay. “The computer uses bio-neural feedback from the participant’s brains to create the environment.”

“Doctor,” Janeway said as she turned to address the video link, “is there a way to speed up resuscitation?”

“Only by a few minutes. Anything more, we’d be risking serious brain damage. Ten minutes would be about the best we could do.”

“Ten minutes and all the hostages could be killed,” Paris sighed.

“Then it seems to me,” Janeway said confidently, “our first order of business should be to reduce the number of hostages. All we have to do now is decide how to negotiate with an emotion. With a manifestation of Fear.”

“Fear is the most primitive, the most primordial of biological responses,” Tuvok said calmly. T’Loran and Vorik nodded in agreement of his assessment.

“The ability recognize danger, to fight it or run away from it,” Janeway mused, “that’s what fear gives us. But when fear holds you hostage, how do you make it let go?” That, T’Loran wondered privately, was a very good question. However, would it be possible to engage Fear without letting it take hold of you? She opened her mouth to speak but Neelix cut her off.

“Maybe we should try to make him laugh,” the Talaxian suggested. “A good joke just seems to make fear dissolve.” Blank stares met the self-proclaimed Morale Officer’s suggestion. “Well, it does in me, anyway,” he muttered.

“Captain,” T’Loran spoke up, “what about simply not responding to Fear? We could send in someone who would be immune to its effects. Or one of us,” she gestured between herself, Vorik, and Tuvok, “who have gained control over their emotions to the point where Fear cannot impact us.”

“There’s something to that,” Torres agreed. “T’Loran seemed to both excite him and make him angry. What was it he said to you? Something about you understood the trick?”

"Oh, that?” T’Loran replied. “I think he meant that I knew that the guillotine would not have any physical effect on my body. I also knew that it was the stark terror of the blade itself and the death that would follow that caused the others to die.”

“So, you mean that if a person could lay on that contraption calmly enough and have complete faith that the blade would have no effect on them, it wouldn’t work?” Janeway asked in surprise. This was an angle she had not considered. “If he put you in that device, you would have been able to get up and walk away from it?”

“I believe so,” T’Loran nodded. “I knew that the entire scenario was nothing more than a vivid dream. I knew it was nothing like the holodeck where, with the safeties removed, death could prove a true danger. He said that I was cheating,” she mused softly. “If he were to put me in the guillotine, then the others would see that it was their own fear, their own survival instinct and panic, that killed them.”

“Do you think you could return and negotiate for us?” Janeway asked suddenly.

“I’m willing to try,” T’Loran agreed.

“I do not believe that would be wise,” Vorik said before he could stop himself. He felt a small brush of panic when he realized he had spoken aloud. However, there was a logical reason that Fear would reject T’Loran as a negotiator. “Considering that this manifestation of fear knows he has no power over T’Loran but does have power over the others, if she were to return, he might kill all of his other captives in order to ensure that she could not escape. And, despite the fact that her training gives her considerable control over her emotions, eventually Fear and exhaustion would find a way to break her. It could happen to any of us,” he added for emphasis. “From what Ensign T’Loran and Lieutenant Torres described, Fear maintains a very intense, loud, and emotionally draining environment. It is chaotic, colorful, filled with incessant noise and music. The captives are never allowed suitable time to rest mentally from its onslaught. Over weeks and months, that would lead to a state of suggestibility even in the most highly-trained Vulcan to ever undergo Kohlinar.” When Tuvok nodded in agreement and gave him a look that said he had done well, Vorik relaxed slightly. He had been speaking truly, of course, but he had not told the entire truth. The entire truth included the fact that he did not think he would be able to remain calm and dispassionate if T’Loran found herself trapped in that environment for more than a few hours.

“I think we should come up with something a little more responsive to Fear’s demand, then,” the captain said with finality. “B’Elanna, maybe you can come up with a way to modify the system so it can run without bio-neural interaction?”

“I’m sorry but how do we negotiate without sending in another potential hostage?” Chakotay asked.

“Good question,” the captain sighed. “We have to come up with a safer method of communication.”

“Captain,” T’Loran said softly, “I have a few thoughts on that matter…”

“Well, let’s hear them,” Janeway said encouragingly. T’Loran shared a look with Torres and then began to lay out her plan.

~*~*~*~

Fear was nearly beside himself with joy. These Starfleets were interesting and so refreshing! Of course, dear Harry kept trying to come up with ways to escape but he’d stop that soon enough. Perhaps, Fear mused to himself, it was time to demonstrate just how complete his power over them was.

“Thinking about escape, are we, Harry?” Fear taunted. “Naughty, naughty. I don’t like those thoughts. We’re going to have to do something about them.”

“He’s new!” the woman seated next to Harry shouted. “He can’t help thinking about getting out!”

“He can!” Fear shouted right back. “You don’t think about it anymore. Oh, but he’s new and you’re old,” Fear mused. “New and old. Old and new. Well then, the answer is simply to make you old, Harry.” He waved his hand and Harry was instantly changed into an elderly man. “Are you afraid of growing old, Harry? Is that what you fear? Being cared for by nurses?” The other aspects of Fear took their place around the frail, elderly Harry Kim with caricatures of medicine and medical equipment. “You don’t like being helpless, do you, Harry?” Fear continued taunting him. “You like to take care of yourself. Yes, I know how you hate to feel like the baby on the crew.” Elderly Harry was suddenly replaced with an infant dressed in a Starfleet uniform. Fear picked the infant up from his crib and toyed with him. “Oh, what’s the matter, Harry? Does my costume frighten you? Oh, look at little Harry fly,” Fear laughed as he lightly tossed the infant up and down. Harry’s body might be infantilized but his mind was still very much aware of what was going on around him and angry at the changes Fear had forced on him. “All right, that’s enough,” Fear sighed as he set Harry down. Faster than an eyeblink, Harry was back to normal. Idly, Fear wondered if Harry would ever understand his world. That frosty T’Loran had. She had understood it too well. Fear had feared her — she could have easily unraveled all of his fun if she’d decided to stay!

“This is not reality,” Harry said with all of the conviction he could muster. Fear tasted it and found that it was not enough. Small seeds of doubt hung in it, keeping Harry from making the same realization that T’Loran had. “It’s an illusion.”

“When your only reality is an illusion, then illusion is reality,” Fear quipped.

“Like the man said,” Harry muttered with insufficient conviction, “the only thing we have to fear is fear itself.”

“Oh, I thought we were going to be friends,” Fear said with fake-grief. “I didn’t want to do this, Harry,” he lied. “No, I didn’t want to bring this up in front of the others but I know what really scares you. I know that when you were nine, your parents took you to that colony — the radiation disaster? — on a humanitarian mission. You visited a hospital, remember?”

“No,” Harry said hoarsely.

“You wandered off by yourself where you weren’t supposed to be,” Fear continued. Harry continued to chant his mantra about only fearing fear as the world around him changed at Fear’s command. “You saw people and things you weren’t supposed to see. Sick and dying. Keep repeating that,” Fear taunted. “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” The rest of his aspects picked up the mantra. “And how about ‘There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.’ Try clicking your heels together three times! Oh, but wait. You’re legs are restrained, aren’t they?” Fear laughed as Harry was strapped to an operating table. “Just like that little girl you saw on the operating table. The doctor called for a scalpel. She looked at you, her face filled with fear. Fear. Fear. Do you remember?”

“No!” Harry screamed as he writhed in his bonds. He wanted to get out of them, to get free, to keep the demented clown from cutting into him. “No!”

Just then, Fear felt something take his hand and pull it away from Harry. “Excuse me,” another Starfleet said. This one looked and felt different. He wore a blue uniform instead of yellow like the others. “You’re not holding that properly. Correct positioning of the index finger is necessary for optimal dexterity.” The Starfleet man in blue pulled the scalpel away from Fear and tossed it behind him.

“Who are you?” Fear demanded. This fellow must have just joined the system. Another few minutes and Fear would know everything about him.

“I’m Captain Janeway’s representative,” the man said coolly. “I’m here to negotiate with you. Are you well, Mr. Kim?” he asked Harry.

“Starting to feel better,” the ensign replied. Fear waited for the new one’s emotions and thoughts to register on the system. When they didn’t, he hissed.

“You’re different. I don’t know anything about you. You’re not on the system.”

“I would be pleased to tell you all about myself at a more appropriate time. For now, suffice it to say that I am here by a miracle of technology,” the man said pleasantly. “Now, let’s get down to the issues, shall we?”

“How am I supposed to negotiate if I don’t know what you’re thinking?” Fear demanded angrily.

“I have a very trustworthy face,” the man said calmly. “My captain is prepared to give you exactly what you asked for under the condition that you release all the hostages.”

“Release the hostages?” Fear said agahst.

"We would provide continuing input from a simulated brain. A computer model that would generate…”

“Simulated brain? Simulated?” Fear sputtered angrily.

“I, myself, have a comparable…” the man tried to explain.

“It won’t work!” Fear said adamantly. “It’s a lie. Tell him, Harry.”

“I don’t know that for sure,” Harry protested.

“Liar!” Fear growled. “Viosra, get over here! Tell him,” Fear ordered.

“It might require a recalibration of the optronic pathways…” the Kohl man named Viosra said carefully.

“Liar!” Fear roared. “After all this time, do you think I can’t tell when you lie?”

“The simulated brain…” the Starfleet in blue continued.

“Would leave me at your mercy,” Fear countered. “No! They stay.”

“The captain is prepared to risk the lives of the hostages rather than leave them under your control,” the man replied dryly.

“Who is she to tell me what I have to do?” Fear demanded.

“She’s the one with the off-switch in her hand.”

“She would never kill Harry,” Fear boasted.

“I’d rather die than spend my life in here with you. She knows that,” Harry retorted.

“I won’t let them go,” Fear said firmly.

“A compromise,” the man in blue argued. “Let some of them go.”

“No.”

“We’ve studied your system. You only need one to survive.”

“And if that one gets sick and dies? No, I need them all. Now go away and tell your Captain Janeway that I’m disappointed. I expected more from her.

“If we could just…” the man said.

“Go away,” Fear ordered imperiously. The rest of his aspects picked up the chant.

“I’ll be back,” the man sighed as he left.

~*~*~*~

T’Loran sighed as they removed the body of one of the hostages from its bio-bed. Their attempt to use the EMH to keep Fear distracted while they disabled the program by taking down the optronic patheways had not been swift enough to work. Fear had begun killing his hostages, forcing them to stop their attempt immediately lest they lose all of them. Harry Kim, the woman, and the other man were still trapped in that hellish nightmare of a dreamscape and she wondered if there were any way to free them now.

She helped the others carry the corpse to Sickbay where the EMH could examine it further and see if there were any other alternatives they could try to keep the terror that Fear wielded from killing the rest of the hostages. The captain walked with them, muttering to herself about fear and its desires all the while. Once there, the EMH tried to console the captain.

“Your decision to capitulate saved the lives of the other hostages, Captain,” he said. “You should take some comfort in that.”

“I don’t,” Janeway said harshly. “Have I misjudged him somehow? Is there another way to reach him? Isn’t there more to fear than a simple demand to exist? Why do people enjoy dangerous sports or holodeck adventures with the safety off? Why, after all these centuries, do children still ride on roller coasters?” Something in the captain’s words sparked a thought in T’Loran’s mind.

“To seek fear,” she replied tonelessly, “is to see the boundaries of one’s sensory experience.”

“Yes, but what does fear seek at the end of the ride?” Janeway pressed.

“…to end,” T’Loran replied. “Fear seeks to end.”

“That’s it, then,” the captain nodded. “I know how to resolve this once and for all. Go down to the cargo bay and prepare one of the bio-beds for me. Doctor, you and I are going to help fear meet his end.”

~*~*~*~

Through a bit of ingenious and quick holo-programming, several modifications to the bio-bed, and the Captain’s strong will, they were able to trick Fear into releasing all of the hostages by making him think he had taken control of the captain. By the time the program realized his mistake, the others were free and the Captain was out of the bio-bed. Vorik, T’Loran, Lieutenant Torres, and Ensign Kim worked with the two Kohl survivors to take the system completely apart. Then, with that done, they sent the survivors back down to survey their planet and then decide what their next path would be.

Vorik sighed and stretched as he left the briefing room. It had been a long day. T’Loran fell into step next to him and the two had a quick telepathic conversation about whether they wanted to eat in the Mess Hall or if they wanted to just go straight to their respective quarters and rest. Knowing that he needed to discuss a pressing matter with T’Loran before he found himself called out for duty or overwhelmed with his own chemical imbalance, he suggested they head to the Mess Hall and find a dark, quiet corner where they could talk undisturbed. She nodded in agreement and they took the turbolift up.

“Did your parents on Vulcan attempt to arrange a marriage for you when you turned seven?” he asked softly once they were seated far from the others. T’Loran blinked in surprise but shook her head.

“They tried,” she explained, “but no other Vulcan family wanted to betroth their son to a human. Such mixed pairings are thought better left to those who are old enough and mature enough to choose them willingly. Also, my parents believed I might find a more…compatible mate…if I joined Starfleet.”

“I see,” Vorik sighed. “Then I would like to take this opportunity to declare koon-ut so’lik. Do you accept?”

“I accept,” she nodded. “I presume the time when your marriage would have taken place is quickly approaching and you believe that your intended has chosen another considering that she has sufficient reason to consider you lost?”

“Indeed,” he agreed. “I have studied the physiological differences between our biological races and believe that, with Lieutenant Tuvok’s assistance, we would be able to form the initial bond.”

“Then let us go speak with him once we have finished eating,” T’Loran replied.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not posting this last week. I have injured my hands so that typing is a bit difficult.

“Wait,” the captain said the next day when Lieutenant Tuvok entered her ready room and explained that Vorik and T’Loran wished to marry. “I thought I told you no more mind-melds without my permission.”

“It did not require a mind-meld. Merely a witness who could help them make the telepathic connection that is often part of the Vulcan betrothal rite. Normally such a thing is done during childhood and only between Vulcans. However, both Ensigns T’Loran and Vorik wished to attempt it so that the wedding ceremony will proceed smoothly even if one of them is on an away mission when the time comes.”

“I know damned little about Vulcan marriage rituals,” Janeway sighed. “Your people are rather close-mouthed about them.” Tuvok nodded in acknowledgment. “But, if they’re planning a wedding, wouldn’t it happen on their schedule? I mean, they wouldn’t be expected to stop mid-ceremony to go, I don’t know, explore a planet.”

“Suffice it to say, the wedding will not be much like a human wedding.”

“Aboard Voyager, won’t it require my presence to make it legally binding?”

“Yes,” Tuvok said hesitantly. “However, they have requested that, for lack of any other option, I perform the ceremony.”

“Well, tell them to pick a date and let us know what date they’ve picked,” the captain said with a smile. “I’m looking forward to seeing my first Vulcan wedding.”

~*~*~*~

T’Loran was beginning to feel oppressed by all of the attention she and Vorik were receiving. Officers and crewmen she barely knew were coming up to her to offer their congratulations and to ask when the wedding would take place and what they would be doing for a reception. Quite a few asked even more inappropriate questions that had her raising her eyebrows despite herself. After a week of such attention, T’Loran wondered just what it was that seemed to have captured everyone’s imaginations so wildly.

“We’re not having a Betazoid wedding,” she sighed as she settled into a chair in Lon Suder’s quarters. “I have answered that question at least fifty-seven times in the past week.”

“I never thought you would have a Betazoid wedding,” Suder said with a hint of amusement. “You’re Betazoid by birth but Vulcan in temperament. What has you so…stressed out for lack of a better way to describe it?”

“Constantly being asked about the wedding,” she admitted. “I think every person on this ship has asked me about it. Twice.”

“Oh, yes. Most of them have never seen a Vulcan wedding. I suppose it doesn’t help that Neelix has probably been researching ancient Vulcan traditions and regaling the crew with stories of elaborate rituals filled with debauchery.” T’Loran blanched. Vulcan weddings were short and to the point. There were no elaborate costumes. There was no “wedding dress” or floral arrangements or music or any of the other hundred things that went with a human ceremony.

“It’s just simple vows exchanged before a priest,” she muttered. “The wedding is not important. The commitment, the sharing of lives and minds, that is the important aspect.”

“I know,” Suder agreed. “However, given that Vulcans have a reputation for being quite ascetic in nature and some consider them practically monks, the fact that one Vulcan is marrying at all has them curious beyond good sense as to what will happen during the honeymoon.”

T’Loran winced. She knew, intellectually, what to expect. The reality would be quite different, she was certain. Her parents had made certain to explain such things to her once she came of age. They had hoped she would find a suitable Vulcan mate but very few Vulcan families wanted to marry their son to a human. She knew that she was going to be solely responsible for helping Vorik to control his emotions during their “honeymoon” and that she might very well come out of it requiring medical attention. However, she kept reminding herself of the things her mother had taught her that would help even a human corral the mind and heart of a Vulcan suffering through _pon farr_.

"You don’t look exactly thrilled at the thought of a honeymoon,” Suder observed with concern. “Do you truly wish to marry at all?”

“I do. Vorik will make an ideal mate. I am fond of him,” she said quickly. “It is a concern of Vulcans. I do not wish to discuss them with you. It’s very…private.”

“I see,” Suder said after a long pause. “Well, keep in mind that most of the rest of Voyager’s crew is not going to understand your desire for discretion. You’ll probably hear a lot of good-natured ribbing and ribaldry from them. Especially the morning after.”

“We won’t be leaving our chambers for several days,” she muttered without thinking.

“That will just intrigue them all the more,” Suder chuckled. “Try being honest with them. Tell them what to expect. Some will be disappointed but most will lose their curiosity once they know that Vulcan weddings are simple affairs.”

“I may just do that,” she nodded.

“Now, let us discuss a bit more about Betazoid telepathy and physiology,” he suggested. “After all, if you are going to mate with a Vulcan, this information will be invaluable in helping you to determine how best to train your children down the road.”

T’Loran nodded in agreement and settled back to listen to Suder speak. Some of this she knew already from her own studies and her own experience. Still, combining two races who were both telepathic in different manners might require a certain flexibility later in her life.

~*~*~*~

Vorik privately wondered if the universe were conspiring against him. He and T’Loran had decided to wait until he actually began pon farr before having the wedding. He had almost decided to argue for holding it before the symptoms became too severe. He worried over whether or not she would be physically strong enough to keep him from accidentally hurting her if they waited too long. However, she was a staunch traditionalist and argued that Vulcans did not just elope. They waited until the proper time. Reluctantly, he conceded that she had a point and began to consider the delay a chance to display the qualities she would be able to expect from him as a husband during the times when he was not caught in the grip of his own chemical imbalance. Lieutenant Tuvok appeared somewhat amused by their decision while the rest of the crew was completely confused by the lack of affectionate (by human standards, at least) displays between the pair. Vorik frequently rose early to meet T’Loran and escort her to the mess hall for breakfast when they were working different shifts. T’Loran frequently brought him supper in his chambers and the pair of them sat together reading, meditating, talking, or playing kal-toh until late. They took turns straightening up and then retired to their respective quarters for sleep.

When Tuvok and Neelix were merged into an entity that called himself Tuvix, Vorik wondered if they would have to change their plans or if Tuvix retained enough of Tuvok’s memories and traits to perform the wedding ceremony or if they would just have to wait and see if Tuvok and Neelix could be separated without killing them. T’Loran was mostly amused to see Tuvix’s rather unique personality and she described the change in his emotional state as being much closer to Neelix than Tuvok. Once the two had been separated, she diplomatically refrained from saying anything about her observations to anyone other than Vorik.

Vorik, though somewhat saddened by Tuvix’s ‘death’ was more relieved to have Lieutenant Tuvok back so that, once they were ready, their wedding could proceed without needing to spend weeks preparing Captain Janeway for what would be expected. Shortly after the situation with Tuvix had resolved, however, it was the Captain herself and Commander Chakotay’s turn to experience tragedy as the pair contracted some virus while on an away mission. The weeks that followed were demoralizing for the entire crew and Vorik and T’Loran both did their best to try to help others come to terms with the loss of the Captain and her First Officer while not doing anything that would have stepped on acting-Captain Tuvok’s toes. Managing to avoid a mutiny while contacting and then fighting off the Vidiians, was another roller-coaster ride entirely but one that saw the Captain and Commander return to Voyager instead of being stranded alone in the Delta Quadrant. Now, their latest adventure seemed to be tracking down the Kazon for some reason that no one outside of the senior staff understood very clearly. The venture had been peaceful and calm enough that Vorik began to feel that, regardless of the reason, it might not be a waste of time.

“I think things are beginning to settle down,” T’Loran said one evening while she and Vorik sat enjoying a game of kal-toh in the Mess Hall. “Have you had any uncomfortable symptoms?” she asked calmly and delicately. Vorik shook his head as he studied the game. He placed another piece while she considered her next move. “At least all of these events have given the crew something to talk about other than us,” she muttered as she made her next move.

“A small blessing, I agree,” he replied. T’Loran seemed to have left him no easy move this round. “I think that we should be able to set the date within the next few weeks,” he said in the same delicate and diplomatic tone his prospective mate had used. Discussing such matters was difficult even when the discussion logically needed to take place.

“These past few weeks — tumultuous events aside — have been a pleasant experience for me,” T’Loran said quickly. “I would hope you have found them equally as pleasant.”

Vorik looked up at her and blinked. “I have,” he said slowly as he realized just what she was driving at. “Once we have settled into our lives together, I look forward to many such weeks with only a few breaks in the general peace we will share over the many years left to us.” Before T’Loran could reply, the ship shook and the lights began to flash, indicating they were at Red Alert. “Down to Engineering?” he sighed. T’Loran nodded and without another word, the pair of them headed off to see if they were needed.

~*~*~*~

“I don’t think we’re going to be able to repair the secondary command processors until we are well away from Nistrim space,” T’Loran reported after the fourth attack. “As it is, our patch-job down there will just barely hold things together. I fear that further attacks focusing on our starboard ventral shield will result in severe damage to those systems. It would probably take at least two days to get them back.”

“I know,” Torres grimaced. “How about the holo-projectors? Are they in place?”

“They are,” Vorik answered. “We have them programmed to be visible from most angles. With the jammers and false-signal beacons that T’Loran and Ensign Kim have programmed, the images should seem real enough to fool the Kazon for several moments.” Meanwhile, the EMH was yammering on about wanting to run through yet another systems test.

“I’m beginning to wonder if that Kazon we have on board has just been leading us on a wild goose chase,” Torres muttered sourly. “We’ve been getting slammed with attacks instead of quietly passing through this region.”

“Janeway to Torres,” came the captain’s voice as the rest of Engineering prepared to hunker down for the latest attack.

“We’re ready down here, Captain. All the new holo-projectors are on-line. We can create three Talaxian ships whenever you want.”

“In about a minute and a half, B’Elanna. Stand by,” the captain ordered. Torres nodded to Vorik and T’Loran who took their places. The EMH continued to argue for another systems check while Torres did her best to calm him down and explained that they didn’t have the resources to do what he wanted at the moment.

“Janeway to Torres,” the captain said again. “Initiate holo-programs.”

“Acknowledged,” Torres replied. “Energizing.”

“That’s two,” T’Loran said a few seconds later. “Number three is coming up.” She winced when she realized that the third Talaxian ship was actually the EMH. Pulling him back to Sickbay, she sighed and waved her hand as if to say ‘well, we knew that the program might be overloaded in less-than-ideal circumstances.’

“Doctor,” Torres asked, “are you there? Are you all right?”

“I told you we should have run one last systems check,” the EMH muttered angrily.

“Lieutenant!” Vorik shouted as the reports came in. “There’s been a massive discharge on deck eight. We’ve lost a primary plasma conduit.”

“Power failures are occurring all over the ship,” T’Loran added as she scanned the systems reports. “We’ve lost power to the new holodeck grid. It can’t be restored without significant repairs.”

“The reactant’s injector controls were hit,” Vorik sighed as the battle continued. Lieutenant Torres summed up the reports and sent them to the bridge while the entire Engineering staff scrambled to try to put out brush fires that were spreading through every system. “We’ve lost warp,” he winced.

“The containment field generator has been damaged. I’ll try to bypass it,” T’Loran replied. “Nothing,” she sighed a few moments later.

Just then, the intruder alerts began going off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not posting this last week. I have injured my hands so that typing is a bit difficult.


End file.
